Potions Homework
by Ryuuza
Summary: Hermione and Draco have issues with love potions. Epilogue: random poem, DHr snogging, Tom Riddle's diary, and Harry's new girlfriend. Seventh year shall be interesting indeed. COMPLETE.
1. Incident Number One

Potions Homework  
  
1. Incident Number One  
  
"Double Potions with Slytherin, again," groaned Ron Weasley. He looked morosely at the schedule in his hands. "That's the third time this month. And first thing in the morning too."  
  
"Buck up," said Hermione Granger briskly. She speared a strawberry with her fork and popped it into her mouth. Chewing and swallowing quickly, she added, "I heard Snape is teaching us about love potions."  
  
Next to her, Harry Potter grinned, his green eyes twinkling. "Snape's going to be apoplectic. He hates anything to do with love."  
  
Ron stuffed his schedule back in his bag and sighed. "He'll probably take fifty points from Gryffindor just because he's in a bad mood. Bloody prat," he grumbled, finishing off his orange juice.  
  
The three sixth-year students were situated at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, enjoying breakfast before a long day of classes. Between a tall, lean boy with unruly black hair and an even taller and lankier boy with a shock of flaming red hair, a petite girl with a riot of golden-brown curls sat eating her blueberry scone. The students around them, though friendly, were somewhat distanced from what they had termed "the dream team." The three had been best of friends since their first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and had remained thus throughout five years of harrowing adventure and near death [which only seemed to strengthen their bond].  
  
"Let's go," Hermione said, standing and picking up her bag. "We don't want to be late."  
  
Harry and Ron gathered their things too, and as they stood, their plates vanished from the table. Hermione glared at the area that had, only a moment before, been occupied by gold dishes littered with leftover crumbs and jelly. "I still can't believe Hogwarts has the most house-elves in all of Britain!" she exclaimed angrily. Her brown eyes flashed. "That is utterly cruel and-"  
  
"Don't you get it Hermione?" asked Ron in a weary tone that implied he had had this conversation before. "They like serving people. They like not getting paid. It's-"  
  
"Demoralizing!" Hermione marched away self-righteously, leaving Ron and Harry to trail after her, shaking their heads bemusedly at each other. While they understood her passion, they would never understand how the brightest girl in their class couldn't comprehend that house-elves liked to serve. S.P.E.W., apparently, was still going strong as ever, propelled onwards by its president alone.  
  
After catching up with their friend, house-elves were no longer mentioned as they discussed the weather (it was uncommonly cold for mid-October), the upcoming Potions class (this subject was quickly abandoned as Ron didn't like dwelling on Snape), and Quidditch. Harry, now captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, enthusiastically went over possible strategies and techniques to put into play at the next practice with Ron, the new Chaser. Hermione offered whatever she could about the plays she'd observed in last week's Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff match.  
  
They reached the dungeons where Professor Severus Snape, head of Slytherin House, bane of the dream team's existence, and home of greasy hair and black looks, held his Advanced Potions class. Many of their fellow Gryffindor students were already seated, as well as most of the Slytherins, lounging in their black robes with the Slytherin crest, smirking and looking all around gleefully evil.  
  
"Well, if it isn't Potty and his sidekicks, Weasel and Mudblood," drawled a mocking voice as they took their seats.  
  
Three pairs of eyes aimed glares in Draco Malfoy's general direction. "Sod off, Malfoy," Ron snapped.  
  
"Ouch, I'm hurt," Draco replied, raising a scornful brow. "Is that the best you can do?"  
  
"Ignore him," Hermione said stiffly, taking her books out. The sixth-year Slytherin had been the bane of their existence, short only of Professor Snape, Voldemort, and all his fellow Death-Eater minions, since their first year. Now that Voldemort had been defeated [by Harry of course] last June in a nightmarish event in which hundreds of lives had been lost and Harry had almost been taken himself, Draco had moved higher up on Hermione's list of People I Really Wouldn't Want To Spend The Summer Holidays With.  
  
A few minutes later, the bell rang and Snape stalked in from his office, a small room off the classroom. His black robes swirled around his legs as he made his way to the front of the room. He surveyed the students, his sallow face reflecting dislike as his eyes passed over the Gryffindors and utter loathing as it settled on Harry, Hermione, and Ron.  
  
"Today, we will be learning about," he paused, "love potions." His voice reflected his obvious feelings on the subject-disgust. "Now, all love potions are illegal, as they are considered a type of Imperius curse, so I don't suggest you try any on Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger." He sneered in Hermione's direction, apparently recollecting Rita Skeeter's article in Witch Weekly about her supposed use of a love potion on Viktor Krum. She flushed angrily but kept her mouth shut.  
  
"There are two types of love potions," Snape snapped, pacing as he lectured. "The Amoura, where the drinker falls in love another person, and the Amour, where others fall in love with the drinker. The Amour is considered more powerful because it affects random subjects, forcing them to fall in love with the drinker, and thus subjecting more unwilling souls to its will. It is extremely dangerous and its use will send you straight into Azkaban for life. Are you taking notes?"  
  
Quills were picked up and quickly dipped into ink and the scratching of nibs against parchment filled the dungeon. Observing them with a watchful eye, Snape said coldly, "I will not be showing you how to brew these potions, as even the densest of you must have concluded," here, a derisive look at Neville Longbottom, "but Professor Dumbledore wishes me to show you what each potion looks like to better prepare yourselves if ever should you encounter one." He made the notion of anyone ever wanting to give these students a love potion sound preposterous.  
  
As Snape turned his back to search his shelves for the potions, Ron whispered, "It's a shame love potions are illegal. If they weren't, maybe Snape would get himself a woman, get married, and leave Hogwarts forever!" His eyes went unfocused as he fantasized about a life without Snape.  
  
Harry snorted softly. "Could you imagine the wedding night?"  
  
Hermione and Ron choked, stifling laughter and disgusted looks. Fortunately for them, their muffled snickers went unheard as Snape turned and glared at the class. In his right hand, he held a glass bottle full of lavender liquid brimming with bubbles which, upon closer inspection, turned out to be heart-shaped. "This is the Amoura Potion," Snape announced, holding it up for the class to see. "Slight differences in ingredients can alter the properties of the potion. It can be made for the drinker to fall in love with someone specifically, and can be changed in what activates it- the drinker's name, the first person he or she sees, etcetera. Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
"So what are the properties for this Amoura Potion?"  
  
Snape looked slightly ill that his favored student could be taking interest in such a frivolous potion. "It has been brewed so that the drinker will fall in love with the first person they hear to say a certain word." He looked quite ready to move on to the Amour Potion but was once again interrupted.  
  
"And what word is that, Professor Snape?" Draco asked curiously.  
  
Looking irritated, Snape snapped, "Hugz-o-palooza."  
  
The class erupted with disbelieving laughter. "He's j-joking," gasped Ron, his face turning red as he guffawed. "That's.ut-utter-ly ridiculous!"  
  
"That will be enough, thank you." Snape looked beyond irritated. "And that's five points from Gryffindor for disrupting class."  
  
"What?" Ron stopped laughing abruptly. His blue eyes flashed angrily. "The Slytherins were-"  
  
"Ron!" Hermione glared at him. Provoking Snape in this mood was not a wise choice.  
  
"Moving on." Snape glowered in Ron's direction. "The Amour Potion." He set the bottle of lavender liquid on his desk and retrieved a bottle of bubbly pink liquid. "This is the Amour Potion; it is very distinctive, due to its unusual color. The only other potion in the world that is pink is the Kissing Potion, which is a variation of the Amour Potion. We will not get into that today. Another frivolous potion," he muttered under his breath. He returned to the subject on hand and went on to discuss the attributes of the potion. The students studiously took notes. When he finally, finished, he set the bottle on his desk beside the Amoura Potion.  
  
"Now," he said, a smile-or what passed for a smile for Snape, which was more of a twist between a sneer and a smirk-creeping across his face, "we will brew some potions. What this class is all about." He looked ready to rub his hands together in glee. "What, Ms. Granger?"  
  
Hermione had raised her hand. "Professor Snape, you said that love potions are normally consumed by drinking them, but isn't it true that they only have to be in the bloodstream to take effect?"  
  
"That's correct," Snape admitted reluctantly. He gave her a cold look. "I assume you picked that up from a book, Ms. Granger?"  
  
"Actually," she answered promptly, "it was from the Potions homework you assigned last class." She smiled sweetly at him.  
  
He looked nonplussed for a second, then recovered and snapped out the instructions for their next potion. "You will be working in pairs. I have already divided you up." He pulled out a roll of parchment and rattled off the first names on the list, "Brown and Zabini." Lavender sent a wide-eyed look at the Slytherin girl slouched in her seat, arms folded across her chest in defiant anger.  
  
"Finnigan and Longbottom." Seamus didn't know whether to look relieved that he'd gotten a Gryffindor or alarmed that it was Neville.  
  
"Granger and Goyle." Hermione looked up, horrified. Not that big lump with half a brain cell! She cast him a cursory glance and it confirmed her worst fears. A Slytherin, Malfoy's lumbering crony, and the brains of a gnat. Wonderful.  
  
"Nott and Parkinson." Pansy looked disappointed that she hadn't gotten Draco.  
  
"Potter and Patil." The pretty, if slightly air-headed, Gryffindor gave Harry a big smile. And giggled. He tried to return the smile and managed a grimace.  
  
"Thomas and Crabbe." Dean turned as pale as a black boy could get.  
  
"Weasley and Malfoy." Ron buried his head in his hands.  
  
"You've got to be kidding me." He glared at the smirking blonde sitting by Crabbe and Goyle, looking unrepentantly smug and not the least distraught at having to work with Ron. The better to taunt him, apparently.  
  
The class divided and moved to their cauldrons. Ron reluctantly picked up his books and made his way to Draco's table as the Slytherin had made no attempt to move. "Too lazy to pick up your rich arse and walk?" Ron snarled at him as he set his books down.  
  
Draco merely smirked at him. "Treating your second-hand books with care, hmm, Weasley? With their condition, I don't blame you." He watched Ron's face turn red with anger and remarked, "Don't worry, Weasley, it's not a crime to be dirt poor." His gaze flicked over Ron's robes. "Doesn't do much for the wardrobe, though, does it?" He sniggered and stood, deliberately turning his back on Ron to arrange the ingredients for the potion. He never knew what hit him-actually, he probably had a fair idea later-when Ron yelled something incoherent and Draco went flying over the table, crashing into a collection of people and cauldrons before sliding over the end of a table and crashing to the floor. Landing headfirst, he blacked out.  
  
Ron stood by the table, red-faced and furious, his wand drawn and waving about the air. The cauldrons skittered off the tables, knocking off books and potion ingredients, and crashed to the floor, literally shaking the ground. There was general chaos as Lavender and Pansy shrieked, Hermione shouted for Ron to stop and put his wand down, Nott cursed as his toe was almost squashed, Snape barked orders angrily, and fragile bottles, shaken by the mini-earthquake of raining cauldrons, rattled on their shelves and toppled against the glass cases that held them in.  
  
There were, however, two bottles that weren't protected by glass cases. The Amour and Amoura Potions fell from their precarious placement on Snape's desk and were shattered against the cold dungeon stone, slivers of glass flying across the room, the potions spilling out to splatter against both students and furniture.  
  
"Close your eyes and mouth," bellowed Snape. "And Weasley, for God's sake, put that wand down!"  
  
Shocked, everyone complied and a few minutes later, when it was ascertained that illegal love potions were no longer flying through the air, the students straightened and glanced around the disordered classroom. Books, parchments, quills, cauldrons, and various types of magic weeds and bat parts were scattered across the dungeon floor. More noticeably, so was.  
  
"Draco!" Pansy gasped, her eyes widening as she caught sight of him lying, prostrate, on the ground.  
  
Snape hurried over. Kneeling, he checked the boy over. "He's unconscious but alive," he announced. He glared at Ron. "No thanks to you, Mr. Weasley." His gaze dropped again and he hefted Draco's still body into his arms. "I'll have to take him to Madame Pomfrey, to see what damage you've done." His eyes flickered over the scratches and bruises covering Draco's skin. "Good job, Mr. Weasley," he sneered as he made his way towards the door of the classroom. "That will be twenty points from Gryffindor and a month's detention for you." He stomped out.  
  
Neither he, nor any of the wide-eyed students he left in the dungeon, noticed the small sliver of glass embedded in Draco's left forearm. A tiny bead of lavender liquid released its tenuous grip on the glass and slid slowly into the cut.  
  
".they only have to be in the bloodstream to take effect."  
  
--  
  
A/N: There's the first chapter. Thanks for reading.now review! Coming up: semi-conscious!Draco in the hospital wing, guilty and pissed off!Ron, shoo!- no-visitors!Madame Pomfrey, and "hugz-o-palooza" galore. 


	2. HugzoPalooza

Potions Homework

2. Hugz-o-Palooza

"I'm not saying he didn't deserve it, I'm just saying you shouldn't have flown off the handle like that!"  Hermione shoved a hand through her hair and gave her friend a look.  "Honestly, Ron!" she sighed.  "You know better than to take him seriously.  He's an arrogant git."

Ron stabbed at the asparagus on his plate.  "I know," he grumbled.  He sighed and stared at his lunch.  "Stupid prat Snape had to go and take off twenty points, too.  I mean, come on, _twenty_ points!"

Harry cocked his head, a lock of untidy black hair falling in his eye.  "Well you _did_ ruin the classroom, spill two illegal potions, knock one of your classmates unconscious…oh," he added, recalling the last of Snape's diatribe against Ron once he'd returned from the hospital wing, "you disrupted class, too."

"Yeah, yeah, I know.  I heard it all before."  He looked guiltily at his friends.  "Think we should go see if he's okay?"

"Of course," Hermione said as if there'd never been a question about it.  "You're not going to stoop to his level and do something like that and _not apologize_!"  She looked scandalized at the thought.  "We're not pretentious gits like him.  Unconsciously mimicking Ron's earlier spearing of his asparagus, she stabbed her fork into her garden salad and accidentally squirted a cherry tomato all over Harry.  "Sorry!"

Muttering a quick cleaning spell, Harry removed tomato seeds from his robes.  Then he polished off the last bite of his turkey and brie sandwich.  "We could go now," he suggested around the food in his mouth.

Hermione gave him a disgusted look.  "Don't talk with your mouth full, Harry!  I swear, you're picking up all of Ron's bad habits."  She sniffed.

"Hey!" protested the Weasley in question…around a mouthful of pasta salad.  Hermione gave him a pointed look and he lifted his hands in playful surrender.  Finishing their meal, the three left the Great Hall, Hermione with another glare at the vanishing plates, and started towards the hospital wing.  They stepped into the sterile and very white room, and was met by a bustling Madam Pomfrey.  She looked down at them with a weary sigh.

"I suppose you're here to see Ms. Weasley?  Fine, go along then, just hurry.  My patients are _not_ to be disturbed for long."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchanged looks.  "Ms. Weasley?" Ron repeated.  "_Ginny_?  What's she doing here?"  The three trooped to the bed Madam Pomfrey indicated before hurrying off and saw a slim girl with the same red hair and freckles that graced Ron lying propped up with pillows.  She raised brown eyes to her visitors, eyes Harry would forever remember wide in fear in the Chamber of Secrets four years ago.  She had aged beautifully from eleven to fifteen but despite her schoolgirl crush on Harry (it'd ended when she was fourteen, she promised), after that episode, he'd never managed to see her as anything but a little sister to be protective over.

"Ginny?" Ron said, looking concerned.  "What are you doing here?  And what are those…are those burn marks?"  He indicated the red scars marring her face.

She smiled wanly.  "Yeah.  I was playing Exploding Snap with some of my friends and," she gestured at herself, "this happened."

"Exploding Snap's never done that before," Hermione said, concerned.

"It was with a new version of cards Fred and George developed for their joke shop," Ginny explained.  "They sent us a preliminary pack to test it."  She rolled her eyes.  "Serves me right for trusting anything they come up."

Ron still looked worried.  "You're okay?"

"Yeah.  Madam Pomfrey's getting me some healing salve."  Ginny dismissed the topic with a wave of her hand.  "I'll be fine."  She gave the three curious looks.  "What are you guys doing here?  I didn't think you'd heard of my…er…mishap."

"Uh, we're actually here…to see Malfoy."  Harry smirked as Ron flushed in response to his little sister's disbelieving look.  He took over and explained why they were extending the slightest sympathy to their enemy, it being the Right Thing To Do since they had consciences and all.

"More than I can say for Malfoy," Hermione said cheerfully.  She looked severely at Ginny, whom she'd always seen as a sister as well, much to her delight.  As an only child, she didn't have any siblings to fret over or fight with, so she, along with Harry, had adopted Ron's six siblings as her own.  "Be sure to owl the twins and tell them not to sell the product.  We wouldn't want have of Britain to be singed this badly every time they played a game of cards!"

Ginny nodded and they bid her their goodbyes and went in search of Malfoy.

"You should apologize, Ron," Hermione announced as they approached the next bed.  Empty.  They moved on.

Ron gaped at her.  "Why on earth would I do that?  He deserved it!  You said so yourself!"

"Yes, well.  You _did_ knock him out."  Hermione looked slightly reproachful.  "It must've hurt."

"Are you feeling _sorry_ for Malfoy?" Harry asked incredulously.

Hermione gave them a frustrated look.  "I'm not trying to side with him or anything," she exclaimed.  "I still hate him.  I just…I just don't think violence is the answer to anything.  I mean, even he deserves…" She trailed off and shook her head.  "Never mind."  They approached another bed.

"Not him," Ron said.  He looked hopeful.  "Maybe Madam Pomfrey's already treated him and let him go."

Hermione was silent.  They walked to another bed.

"All _right_," Ron said, exasperated.  "If it means that much to you, I'll apologize!"

"Malfoy!" she said upon discovering the right bed.  But she smiled at Ron to show her pleasure at his acquiescence.  Then her eyes traveled back to the paler than usual sixteen-year-old lying in the bed.  His eyes were closed, long dark gold lashes shadowing his cheeks, and she assumed he was either still out of consciousness, or had been given a Sleeping Draught by Madam Pomfrey.  His silver-blonde hair hung around his face, disordered by his earlier ordeal.  It looked baby fine and extremely soft and for a moment, Hermione was tempted to touch it, stroke her fingers through it, to see for herself if it was a silky as it looked.  Thankfully, the moment passed.

_What are you thinking, Hermione?_ she asked herself, shocked at her own thoughts.  _It's probably stiff from all that gel he sticks in it, anyway._  Though he did seem less prone to the two pints of hair gel he'd used in earlier years.  Now it was just a dab and Hermione had to admit, it did look better.  And with his changing hairstyle, he had also grown…

Hermione wasn't anywhere near admitting a secret crush or openly declaring love to the boy, but she was always logical.  Well, most of the time.  And the logical part of her now told her that Draco Malfoy had changed over the years.  Not a lot, but the change was there.  It was a fact.  Besides the less hair gel was the growth spurt.  He now towered over her at close if not over six feet, and his lanky body had been toned by dozens of Quidditch practices.  He had grown into his face and his features were less pointed and rat-like.  Or ferret-like, she recalled with a smile.  She understood, though didn't join, Lavender and Parvati's gushing over his physical appearance, because it was true.  Draco Malfoy was gorgeous.  And he knew it.

That was another thing that had changed about him.  He was still smug and arrogant, and was still prone to teasing, taunting, and torturing first-years and Muggle-borns, but it had become less frequent and less malicious.  Hermione could only guess that his flourishing social life had kept him more than occupied.  As for the less malice?  Perhaps one of his many girlfriends had managed to soften him somehow.

"He's still unconscious."  Ron looked grateful.  He cleared his throat and made to turn around.  "All right, then, let's go."

"Ron."  Hermione shot him a look.  He reluctantly turned back towards the bed.

"What?  He really is.  There's nothing I can say to him in this condition!"

Harry rounded the end of the bed to peer down at Draco's face.  "His scratches are healed," he noted.  "Madam Pomfrey works fast, doesn't she?"

"What's this?"  Hermione had followed Harry to the other side of the bed and was now examining a sheet of paper on the table beside Draco's lying form.  She tilted her head, trying to decipher the scrawled words.  "Malfoy, Draco," she read, "6th-year Slytherin.  Cuts, scratches, and bruises—treated.  _Amoura Potion_—" she gasped, "—untreated."  She looked up, eyes wide.

"Bloody hell!  The Amoura Potion?" hissed Ron, looking incredulous.  "How did he—?"

"It must've been when they were knocked over," Harry deduced, his mind flying.  "Some must have flown in his mouth or got in his blood somehow.  I mean, with all the cuts he had…"

Hermione's gaze lowered to Draco's pale face.  "He's inflicted with the Amoura Potion," she whispered.  Her eyes lit up.  "Do you know what an opportunity this is?" she said excitedly.  "I could observe him!  Test him!  Record data!  This could be a medical breakthrough!"

Ron's jaw dropped.

"Crikey.  Hermione?"

The glazed look left her eyes.  "Oh.  Sorry."  She cleared her throat.  "Well, you know, since Amoura Potions are illegal, no one's really done any thorough research on its effects.  None that are recorded in scientific papers, I mean.  But that's beside the point," she hurried to add as Ron and Harry continued to stare at her.  "We should go.  He's still unconscious.  You can apologize to him later, Ron."

As they shifted away, Ron mused, "So who do you think Malfoy's in love with?"

"Ron!  Weren't you paying attention at all in class today?"  Hermione scoffed.  "He's not going to fall in love with anybody until he hears them say 'hugz-o-palooza.'  Considering he's totally out of it, I think that's unlikely."

"Ugh, don't say that word!"  Ron shuddered, his freckles standing out against his pale skin.  "It's so…_fluffy_."

Hermione laughed.  "That's ridiculous, Ron.  How can a word be fluffy?"

"What's fluffy?"  Three heads swiveled to look at Ginny, whose bed they had reached.  Curious expression on her face, she asked again, "What's fluffy?"

"Hugz-o-palooza…" With a grin, Hermione explained about Draco's infection of the love potion and why she was teasing Ron with the word.  She also added there was no danger since Malfoy was still unconscious.  "And it's a fun word to say!  HUGZ-O-PALOOZA!"

"Hermione!" Harry hissed as Madam Pomfrey shot them a dirty look and made a shooing motion with her hands.  "What'd you yell that for?"

Looking embarrassed, Hermione shrugged.  "I don't know," she whispered.

Ron shook his head.  "And you're supposed to be the smart one?"

Hermione gave Ron a dirty look of her own.  Then they bid their goodbyes to Ginny and ducked out the room before Madam Pomfrey could chase them out.__

~

It was foggy.  Or he was stuck in a cloud.  Whatever it was, he couldn't see a bloody thing for all the white-gray mist that persisted in front of his eyes.  And his head hurt as though one of Gryffindor's beaters had just slammed two consecutive Bludgers at his skull.

Draco groaned—or attempted to.  No sound seemed to escape his mouth.  What was wrong with his blasted vocal cords?  While he'd never been Madonna, he _had_ managed to at least _talk_ before.  Even sing a song.  Somewhat off-key, certainly, which was why he didn't often volunteer to sing, but he _had_ managed to make noise.

_Maybe I've died and gone to Hell_, he thought, shifting.  _But then wouldn't the fog be red or black or some other appropriately evil color?  And I wouldn't be so bloody cold either_.  He shivered slightly.  Then again, he was usually cold.

Through the fog that had wrapped its tentacles around him like that giant squid in the lake, Draco heard a tinny noise in his head that he realized were voices.  Voices a long, long ways away.  _Go away_.  _Shoo, now.  Leave the poor mute bastard freezing in his private hell alone_.

The voices persisted.

_Ah, bloody hell._

Well if they insisted on talking, he might as well try to figure out what they were saying.  Focusing, he drew his concentration away from his pounding head to the tiny voices slithering through his consciousness.

"Observe…test him! …Data!  This could…medical…through!"

_What?_

Apparently, the voices in his head were as coherent as he was.

"Crikey…'Mione?"

_Tell me you're joking._  Draco squeezed his eyes shut then realized they'd been closed anyway.  Mione?  Hermione?  As in _Granger_?  …the Mudblood?  What the hell was she doing here?  And what was she prattling on about?

"Oh.  Sorry….know…since Amoura…illegal…thorough research... None are recorded…scientific papers…besides the point…let's go.  Still unconscious…you…apologize later, Ron."

Ron?  Weasley?  What was _he_ doing here?  No doubt the Boy Who Lived To Make Draco's Life A Living Hell was there as well.  _The bloody dream team_, Draco thought uncharitably (well who could expect him to be charitable?  His head _hurt_, dammit).  _Potty, Weasel, and Mudblood_.

Now he _really_ wanted them to leave.

"…Malfoy's in love…?"

Were they talking about him?  Why were they talking about him?  And what was this about him in love?  That was news to him.

"Ron!"  There was Granger's voice.  Unmistakable, now that he'd discerned it.  Bossy and self-righteous.  "…attention at all? …not fall…love…anyone until he…hugz-o-palooza… He's totally out of…I think…unlikely."

"…don't _say_ that…"

Mumble, mumble… Then,

"Ridiculous! How can…fluffy?"

There was silence for awhile, and Draco hoped fervently that meant the dream team had departed and left him to rest in peace.  For a few minutes, it seemed to be true, when seemingly out of nowhere, a yell pierced his already pounding head.

"HUGZ-O-PALOOZA!"

_What in Slytherin's name?_ Draco wondered.  Why was Granger shouting some inane word?  Wait—why did he care?  She could jump around naked on the Quidditch field and he wouldn't— Attempting another groan and finding, once again, his vocal cords were on strike, Draco rolled over and felt cool sheets under him.  Apparently, he wasn't dead.  Once determining that, he thereby concluded that he was on a bed…in the hospital wing.  And that Granger, though bossy and self-righteous was Very Pretty indeed.  Quite Beautiful, in fact.  Just the Type Of Girl he fancied.

--

A/N: Ah, no, Draco's in love!  Please review. ^_^ Chapter 3: conscious!Draco coming on to Hermione, panicked and weirded out!Ron and Harry, and Snape frantically looking for the antidote—"But these blasted things are _illegal_.  There not _supposed_ to have antidotes because no one's supposed to _use_ them!"   Oh and yes, Ginny in the hospital wing will become a part of the plot later.  Somehow.


	3. The Romancing of Hermione Granger

Potions Homework  
  
3. The Romancing of Hermione Granger  
  
Draco was released from the hospital wing that afternoon. Unfortunately, that meant he hadn't missed History of Magic. Fortunately, it meant he had a whole class period to plot the finer points of romancing Hermione in lieu of taking notes about the 56th Goblin Rebellion. Stubborn creatures never seemed satisfied with their current situations and, apparently, throwing fits about it was their solution.  
  
Ignoring Professor Binns and his monotone droning was easy, but to avoid prying eyes from his fellow Slytherins was harder. Draco was forced to sit at the front of the room and clearly in the teacher's view, but Binns seemed to take Draco's scribbling of "roses, girls always like roses" for notes on Grylfink the Ghastly's biography. Draco didn't bother to remedy this misconception.  
  
Her hair.he loved her hair. And her beautiful cinnamon-brown eyes. Maybe she'd like a sonnet about it? Better than a serenade, obviously, as she wasn't likely to be impressed by his off-key rendition of "Brown-Eyed Girl". This was hard. Draco chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. He'd never thought romancing a girl would be hard. That half of the species [as well as certain members of the other half, but he wasn't going to dwell on that] had continually thrown themselves at him since the beginning of his 5th year after a growth spurt over the summer and lots of Quidditch practice. He wasn't used to chasing girls. Running from unwanted attentions, he'd had plenty of experience with, but never the opposite.  
  
Of course, this was a little more difficult than per the norm. Hermione did, after all, hate him, and so did her two best friends. He hadn't exactly shown her his nicest side either, what with all the name-calling and insults. But Draco was over that. It was a thing of the past. He wouldn't let some silly blood lineage [or his father's certain rage] get in the way of true love! Omni Vincit Amor. Love conquers all. Hermione would be his. Draco always got what he wanted.  
  
If only he could figure out how.  
  
Stifling a groan, Draco buried his face in his hands. This was harder than Arithmancy, which was saying something! But he was good at Arithmancy.he'd find a way to overcome the small issue of his enmity with the dream team and win Hermione's heart.right? Raising his head, Draco stared thoughtfully through Professor Binns at the slightly blurred outline of the window behind him [ghosts were more translucent than transparent]. His silver eyes narrowed.  
  
Speaking of Arithmancy.  
  
Didn't Hermione take Arithmancy?  
  
His heart leaped. Yes! He had an idea.well, an inkling of an idea, but it was better than nothing. Arithmancy.help with homework, maybe? A tutoring session, just the two of them alone. Or maybe. Draco suppressed a smile of glee [Malfoy's never smiled or grinned, Rule #51 in the Malfoy Family Code of Conduct. Only sneers, smirks, and scowls were allowed. As well as deliberately blank expressions]. This could go so many different ways! He was a genius. Of course, that was implied: he was a Slytherin, and a Malfoy at that.  
  
Mind flying with possible ideas, Draco dipped his eagle quill in the inkwell with a satisfied smirk and proceeded to record his thoughts on parchment.  
  
~  
  
"Well, we're off to Quidditch practice. Later, Hermione." Harry and Ron left the Great Hall after a filling dinner (A/N: I'm sorry. Apparently, I have this thing with starting scenes off with meals in the Great Hall. Maybe I'm hungry.) and headed back to their dorms to fetch their Quidditch robes and broomsticks before heading for the pitch for their fourth practice of the week. Hermione waved them off with a smile. She finished up her vegetables and as her dinner plate vanished, a dish with a slice of pumpkin pie appeared.  
  
Her favorite dessert! She dug into it happily. As she forked off a bite, making sure to include the dollop of whipped cream on top, a scattered dozen of owls flew in through the rafters. All seemed in fair condition [except a brown barn owl that straggled to the Ravenclaw table in a manner that reminded Hermione fondly of Errol] for the night, according to the enchanted ceiling, was clear and twinkling brightly with stars, making for good flying weather.  
  
Her eyes drawn towards a large, majestic eagle owl and its royal hoot, Hermione was surprised to see it flying in her direction. While she was used to the evening post, though most of the mail came in the morning during breakfast, she rarely received messages at night. Nonetheless, the owl swooped down in front of her and dropped a single red rose next to her plate. She gaped at it.  
  
"Are you sure that's for me?" she asked the owl. It hooted indignantly, fluttering its wings at the implication that it didn't deliver its package correctly. "Sorry." Hermione absently held her goblet of pumpkin juice out and the owl dipped its beak in for a drink.  
  
"Hermione!" Lavender Brown leaned down the table, curious as ever. "Who's that from?" She gestured at the rose.  
  
Parvati Patil peered around her friend's shoulder, her long, dark hair falling across her shoulder. "A rose! Is this from a secret boyfriend?" she teased. "How come you didn't tell us about him, Hermione?"  
  
Hermione flushed slightly. "I-I don't know who sent it." She eyed the owl that had just finished its fill of pumpkin juice. "Does the owl look familiar?"  
  
Lavender and Parvati both shook their heads solemnly. "Is there a card?" asked Lavender.  
  
There was! Hermione fingered the card hanging from the stem. "Hermione," she read out loud. Her eyes skimmed quickly over the next words and she blushed, red, and refused to read the rest aloud. It was a moot point when Parvati reached over and grabbed the card from her hand.  
  
"Hermione. Your eyes are the color of dark chocolate and your hair is wild cinnamon curls. Your smile shines like the sun; you are a ravishingly beautiful girl. Your skin looks so soft, the color of peaches and cream. Your voice is smooth like honey: it haunts my nightly dreams. I love the way you walk and talk, and your brilliant intelligence too. I can't get you out of my head; there's no denying that I love you. Meet me at the Astronomy Tower. Now. I'll be waiting." Parvati looked up. "Hermione," she said, grinning, "Someone is so besotted! Who is it?"  
  
"I don't know," Hermione insisted, still red. She snatched the rose back and stood up, ready to abandon her unfinished pumpkin pie and leave. She had to think.  
  
"Are you meeting him?" Lavender called out as Hermione hurried towards the doors. She received no reply. "I bet she is," the blonde said gleefully to her friend.  
  
Hermione was almost out of the Great Hall when she heard Ginny's voice. "Hermione! Wait." The redhead reached her, breathing heavily. "What was that about?" she asked as they pushed open the doors and started towards the Gryffindor tower.  
  
"Someone sent me a rose," muttered Hermione. She explained about the poem and request and her dorm mates' endless curiosity. "I have no idea who it is," she reiterated, shaking her head. "I don't even know if this is for real and not just some prank."  
  
Ginny scratched the back of her neck. "But aren't you curious?" she asked casually. "About who it is? I mean, what if it isn't a joke? Wouldn't you want to know who's so smitten with you?"  
  
"I don't know." Hermione smiled privately to herself, thinking that for being the top student in her class, she didn't know a lot of things tonight. "It's a little unsettling," she said. "I mean, how could someone be so in love with me without me ever noticing? It's a bit like having a stalker." She shivered.  
  
"Well, once you find out who it is, you can avoid them then," Ginny answered cheerfully. "I suggest you meet them, if only to tell me who it is!" They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady by then. "You never know, you may like them back!"  
  
"Unlikely." But Hermione agreed. She was curious too. Ginny gave the Fat Lady the password and they climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. Hermione had decided the wisest choice would be to borrow Harry's Invisibility Cloak for the escapade because, well, she just didn't want to run into anyone. And this way, she would be able to see her mystery admirer before he could see her, which would give her an advantage if she wanted to leave without him knowing she was there.  
  
Smiling blithely at the a few third-years in the common room, she made her way to the boys' dormitory and retrieved Harry's cloak from his trunk. He wouldn't miss it. She planned to be back before Quidditch practice was over. With the cloak tucked firmly under her robes, she returned to the common room and ducked out through the portrait hole again. Ginny smiled knowingly from her position on the couch, chatting with one of her fifth- year friends.  
  
Once outside in the hall, Hermione checked that no one was around then quickly pulled out the cloak and swung it around herself. The silvery fabric shimmered in the pale moonlight filtering in from a nearby window, and then faded to show nothing but a quiet stone hallway. Gentle footsteps were heard padding in the direction of the Astronomy Tower.  
  
~  
  
He was in agony. Where was she? Was she coming? Did she like his poem? Of course she was coming, he reassured himself, taking a deep breath. No one could resist him.right? Well, as long as she didn't.  
  
He knew somewhere inside of him that upon first glance at who her secret admirer was, she'd laugh and turn on her heel, leaving him staring at her retreating back. It would be an instinctive response to six years of mutual enmity and he could expect no less. But he was desperate to change her mind.  
  
He wasn't sure where this love for her had sprung up from but he couldn't turn away from it. It would eat him up from inside if he didn't act on it, declare it, show it, prove it to the world. He was head over heels and he wanted her to know it. And love him back. Yes, that would be nice. Unrequited love had never been his thing. But most importantly, he wanted to show her how he felt.  
  
He'd taken measures to insure their privacy and had also summoned comfortable cushions and blankets to pad the floor, with flickering candles casting shadows on the walls. Hopefully, they would be blown out later so they could look at the stars together. He'd always been fascinated in the night sky and hoped to share the experience with her.  
  
If only she'd come.  
  
He'd never been the patient sort, apparently.  
  
His eager ears heard the soft rhythm of footfalls nearing. His heart picked up. She was here!  
  
~  
  
"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked, looking tired as he crawled through the portrait hole behind Harry. Dean Thomas, another Chaser, followed them in. They were all in Quidditch robes, dirt and grass stains smeared across the scarlet cloth, and holding broomsticks. They tracked mud across the room, which prefect Sera Li cleaned with a quick spell and an irritated look, and headed for the stairs to shower and change.  
  
Harry and Ron paused at the foot of the stairs, letting Dean up first as they waited for an answer to Ron's question.  
  
Seamus Finnigan shook his head. "I haven't seen her since dinner."  
  
Lavender's head popped up from where it lay on his shoulder [they'd been going out since 4th year] and eyed Harry and Ron with a gleam in her eye. "You're looking for Hermione?" she asked. They nodded and she smiled broadly. "She went to the Astronomy Tower."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"After you guys left for Quidditch practice, the mail came. Hermione got a rose and love poem from a secret admirer." Lavender giggled. "You should've seen her face! It was so cute. She went to meet him at the Astronomy Tower.an hour ago."  
  
Harry paled. "What?"  
  
"How could she run off and meet some random guy?" Ron asked, looking panicked. "That's.mental! She doesn't even know him!"  
  
"An hour?" repeated Harry, eyes wide behind his glasses.  
  
"We have to go get her, Harry." Ron tugged anxiously on his sleeve. "C'mon. We have to see if she's okay!"  
  
Harry elbowed him. "Let's get the cloak," he whispered. They disappeared up the stairs. A minute later, everyone in the Gryffindor tower was treated to Ron's anguished howl, "HOW COULD SHE TAKE IT?!"  
  
~  
  
"Malfoy!" Damn. She'd be so stunned she'd forgotten she was under the Invisibility Cloak. Now he knew she was here. His tall form whirled around and she reluctantly let the fabric fall to the ground.  
  
"Granger." Damn. Inherent response. "Hermione."  
  
Her brown eyes flicked over him suspiciously. "What're you doing here?" She gazed at the cushions and candles littering the floor.  
  
"I think it would've been obvious." Draco took a step towards her, his gaze intent. "I can't believe you actually came."  
  
She inhaled shakily, a musky scent she deduced must be his cologne mingled with the smell of the crisp night air. She couldn't believe it. Draco Malfoy? Could it really be? Hermione shook her head mentally. The ever- smirking Slytherin who took joy in insulting her, Harry, and Ron, and making them angry? The boy who'd cruelly called her "Mudblood" in every other sentence, made fun of Ron's family, and mocked Harry's dead parents? How dare he presume she'd.  
  
He took another step towards her, his pale blonde hair highlighted in the golden glow of the candles.  
  
Well, his taunts had been less frequent. And he rarely made fun of Harry's parents or Ron's family anymore. He'd focused instead on teasing their incompetence in Potions class, lack of skill on the Quidditch field, and poor fashion sense.  
  
He really was less cruel than he had been, Hermione admitted.  
  
But that didn't mean she liked him! It didn't mean anything of the kind.  
  
"I think I love you, Hermione." He was so close.and he was.smiling? There was no mistaking the soft curve of his lips. Hermione stared. The rare occurrence made him look so.appealing. He really should smile more often.  
  
"Y-you hate.how could.you don't even know me, Malfoy," she sputtered, jerking herself out of her thoughts.  
  
He shook his head at her. "My name is Draco," he told her softly. "Say it."  
  
"Why?" she asked defiantly.  
  
"Say it."  
  
He took another step closer to her. "Draco," she whispered. Her heart was thumping wildly. She couldn't believe she was alone with Draco Malfoy. She couldn't believe she was alone with Draco Malfoy and she liked it. For there was no mistaking the electricity that ran through her bloodstream for anything but attraction. She was flustered by his proximity.  
  
"Hermione. Give me a chance." His silver eyes peered down at her pleadingly. "I've changed. I promise." His hot breath fanned her cheek as he placed his lips right next to her ear. "Give me a chance to prove it."  
  
"Draco."  
  
His name escaped her lips on a gasp and he took the opportunity to cover her mouth with his. Draco, she thought feverishly, helpless to do anything against his gentle assault but kiss him back. Draco.  
  
~  
  
"Eureka!"  
  
Dumbledore looked mildly over Snape's shoulder. "I take it you've found the last ingredient, Severus?" he asked.  
  
Snape was triumphant, his dark eyes gleaming. He held up a bottle of black penswingle, a mixture of crushed beetle wings and pensike root. "This is it," he declared. "Once I brew this with the rest of the ingredients, the antidote for the Amoura Potion will be complete."  
  
"I congratulate you, Severus." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled. "It is indeed quite a feat you have performed. The antidote for a potion such as the Amoura is hard indeed to come by."  
  
"The blasted things are illegal. There not supposed to have antidotes because no one's supposed to use them!" The Potions professor looked annoyed. "Of course that Weasley boy would be stupid enough to start blowing this up in my room. Of all the idiotic things to do!"  
  
"Now don't be too harsh on Mr. Weasley," cautioned Dumbledore. "He was provoked, you know."  
  
Snape growled low in his throat. "The boy should have better self-control in a school environment," he snapped.  
  
"That may be so. However, order will be restored tomorrow." Looking quite satisfied, the headmaster of Hogwarts nodded at Snape and began to help clean up. He waved his wand and things flew back into their bottles and bottles back on their proper shelves. "I presume you'll be giving Mr. Malfoy the antidote tomorrow?"  
  
Snape nodded in assent. "I shall have him see me before classes begin tomorrow." He grimaced. "Hopefully, all will be well and no idiot uttered that ridiculous activation word in his presence in the last few hours."  
  
Dumbledore smiled benignly. "I'm sure it's unlikely. Very few people find the same joy in saying 'hugz-o-palooza' that I do. It's highly uplifting."  
  
--  
  
A/N: So ends the chapter. Please, please review! Coming soon: thoroughly kissed!Hermione and shocked and grossed out!Ron and Harry racing to the rescue only to discover they're too late. Draco returns to normal.or does he? Aaand.the second incident! Polyjuice Potion and detention ahead.  
  
I'm sorry for Draco's OOC-ness. Just remember he's under the love potion.I'll change him back, eventually. ^_^ Hermione's reaction to Draco in the Astronomy Tower is also a little OOC, I'll admit, but you can blame it on raging teenage hormones. Heh. And as for the love poem? Er.though I may be a poet, that sort of fluffy mush just isn't my style. *shudders* So, go review now. 


	4. Incident Number Two

Potions Homework

4. Incident Number Two

Not much could inspire the vigor with which Ron and Harry were racing through the halls of Hogwarts.  There was only the threat of being late to Potions and the possibility of losing their lives [which, considering, amounted to much the same thing] that could rouse such haste.  However, they were adding another item to their list: concern over Hermione's well-being after being left alone with an unknown person in the Astronomy Tower for over an hour!  All thoughts of Hermione being a self-sufficient sixteen-year-old girl at the top of their class who could more than take care of herself went flying out of their heads as they sprinted up the stairs and down the corridors.  They were being concerned [if overprotective] friends—it was their job to be neurotic and imagine the worst scenarios.  [In that way, they remind me of my mom…]

_What could she be_ thinking, _disappearing to meet some random bloke?_ wondered Harry somewhat desperately.  She knew better than that!  While Voldemort had been undoubtedly defeated last year, the wizarding was still dealing with the repercussions of his death.  The Ministry had fallen apart amidst corrupted officials and Imperious Curses, and while the majority of the Death Eaters had been either killed in battle or sent to Azkaban, there were still cunning traitors and clever liars who had slipped from the grasp of justice.  The danger was not over.  The struggling Ministry could barely manage to Obliviate the Muggles who had accidentally witnessed the final showdown, much less concentrate on protecting the Muggle-born witches and wizards still targeted by the escapees.

Of course, Hogwarts was still the safest place in England to be, as Albus Dumbledore still presided as Headmaster, and it was unlikely that anyone with an association to the Dark side had managed to get past all the wards and Dumbledore's keen eye, but Harry wasn't being rational as he flew down the hall towards the Astronomy Tower.  And if he wasn't, it was safe to say that his red-haired, quick-tempered best friend wasn't either.

"Blithering…idiot," Ron gasped out angrily, his blue eyes flashing with concerned ire.  "Bloody mental…running…off like… No brains…" He seemed to consider his last statement as he rounded a corner and ran towards a cross-hall.  "No common sense," he amended just as he careened headlong into seemingly nothing and stumbled to the ground with a decided lack of grace.

Harry, going too fast to stop on this sudden note, toppled over him with a yelp.  "What-?" he cried, his elbow meeting the stone ground painfully.  His glasses slid down his nose and he struggled for breath, trying to clamber off Ron.  Shoving his glasses back up, he muttered a curse [and quite inventive it was, with broomsticks and wands playing a starring role] and glared at his friend.  "What the hell was that?" he demanded.

Ron wasn't paying any attention.  His hands were wrapped around thin air and he was peering intently into space.  _Oh blimey_, thought Harry, _he didn't land on his head, did he?_  His concerns were proved unfounded as Ron said incredulously, "Hermione?"

Finally understanding—she had taken his Invisibility Cloak, after all!—Harry kneeled down beside Ron and squinted at the air.  "Is that you, Hermione?"

A moment of silence and, "Yeah."  Hermione sounded breathless, explained possibly by her crash into Ron.  The hood of the cloak fell back, revealing Hermione's head, her curly brown locks more unruly than usual.  Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and a dazed expression on her face, her head floated above nothingness, similar to the way Harry had accidentally revealed himself to Draco third-year at Hogsmeade.

"Are you okay?"  "What the bloody hell were you _doing_?"  "Who was there?"  "Why did you go?"

A chorus of questions, or rather, demands, spilled out of Harry and Ron's mouths.  Ron continued grasping Hermione's invisible arms, as if to prevent her from running off again.

Shaking her head at the bombardment of words, Hermione replied quickly, "There was no one there.  It was a prank…" She trailed off and eyed her friends nervously.  "How did you know I was at the Astronomy Tower?"

"Lavender told us about your owl."  Ron scowled.  "A love poem?  A joke?  This isn't bloody _funny_!"

Harry was more serious.  "He's right, Hermione," he said softly.  "You know you're still in danger…don't put yourself into situations that might end up with us attending your funeral."

"Well aren't you the cheerful bunch?" snapped Hermione.  She wrenched herself from Ron's hold and stood, sweeping the hood back over her face.  Her voice echoed clearly, "Nothing happened.  No one saw me.  Don't worry."  Her footsteps fell softly as she left them.

Ron stared after her, his face still red from his outburst.  "Ungrateful chit," he grumbled.  "See how much concern I show next time she disappears."  But his eyes were still trained in her direction worriedly.

~

Snape had meant to call Draco Malfoy into his office before classes started that day.  Unfortunately, the boy seemed nowhere to be found, and none of his Slytherin mates had any idea where he was.  This put the Head of Slytherin house in a bad mood.  This mood was worsened by the fact that he had another class of Gryffindors and Slytherins that day.  Not Double, at least, but it still irked him to have to deal with those bloody dunderheaded Gryffindors for two consecutive days.

Fortunately, he wouldn't have them until late morning, right before lunch.  So Snape spent the morning reorganizing his potions, disarranged by that idiot Weasley's spellcasting the day before, and took the opportunity to update his files as well.  When he was finished, he considered calling Draco from his first class that morning, Arithmancy, he believed, but Dumbledore had cautioned him against letting the other professors know of Draco's condition.  While they (i.e., Snape and Dumbledore) knew that the Amoura Potion had been administered accidentally [Madam Pomfrey's tests had proven that he was under the influence], the use of it was still illegal and it would be in the best interest of all involved if only Dumbledore and Snape were aware of it.  Draco himself didn't need to know; all Snape had to do was convince his favorite pupil to drink the antidote and all would be well.

A quarter of an hour later, Snape stood behind the podium in his Potions classroom.  "We will be learning how to make the Polyjuice Potion today," he told the class in his usual cold tones.  "Last class, you attempted to make the Trijuice Potion, a simpler form of the Polyjuice Potion consisting of only three ingredients.  Likewise, it is less powerful and can only transform inanimate objects into other inanimate objects."  He swept the students with a gaze, narrowing as they passed over the dream team and widening in slight alarm when he caught Draco peering over Goyle's shoulder at Hermione.

The expression on his face…

That couldn't be _longing_ Snape saw on Malfoy's face, could it?  His prized student longing for…for know-it-all Granger, whose superior position in class statuses alone made it impossible for a Malfoy to want, much less a _Mudblood_?  Lucius would have an apoplexy.  What in Camelot had possessed Draco to—

_The Amoura Potion…_

Snape had to get Draco the antidote, immediately.  He snapped out the instructions for the potion, not bothering to review the origins and use.  If any of these witless students had done the homework he'd assigned them, they'd already know.  Snape had a policy of never being redundant—repeating information he expected his students to know was of a useless nature.  So he assigned the class the same partners they had had previously and strode, robes flapping, to Weasley and Draco's cauldron.

"You'll have to excuse Mr. Malfoy for a moment, Mr. Weasley.  I presume you'll be able to add the correct ingredients to the potion without assistance or am I overestimating your abilities?"  This mocking phrase was accompanied with a cruel sneer and before Ron could reply furiously [and the flush of anger staining his cheeks was indicating that he was about to do just that] Snape beckoned to Draco and turned, walking away.  Draco followed obediently.

Unfortunately, Snape was too concerned about the effect of the love potion on Draco that he was completely oblivious that his path [directed towards his office, where the antidote was sitting in a goblet on his desk] ran right past Hermione Granger.  He had reached the door to his office before he realized that Draco was no longer behind him—he was next to Hermione, talking quietly in her ear, a soft, inviting smile on his face.

Snape bit back his curses [nearly as impressive as Harry's] and stalked back towards the two.  Harry, just noticing his archnemesis speaking with his best friend, advanced as well, trailed by a clenched-fist Ron.

Harry and Ron reached them first.  "What do you want Malfoy?" Harry asked the pale, silver-haired boy bluntly.  Open hostility glittered in his green eyes.

"Just to talk to Hermione.  Bugger off, Potty."

Hermione bit her lip.  Apparently, being in love with her hadn't changed his feelings toward her friends any.  "Draco," she whispered.

Ron was furious.  He shoved Draco in the chest, the shorter boy [at six feet, only two inches] stumbling backwards slightly.  "What right do you think you have calling Hermione, 'Hermione'?" he snarled.  "You bloody…half-brained…twit…" He struggled for words.  "Arrogant git…inbred, thoughtless, blasted _wanker_."

"Real clever speech," returned Draco, face hard.  "Eloquent, aren't you, Weasel?"

Hermione glanced beseechingly at him.  "Draco," she repeated anxiously.  She had gotten to know a different side of him last night, for beyond the absolutely brilliant snogs, they had shared their secrets with each other.  Hermione wasn't certain why she had bared her soul to someone she'd despised for five straight years, but the sincerity in his voice had touched a part of her.  She had exchanged her secrets, life story, dreams, goals, fears, and trust with him and had unwittingly given away a part of heart.  No, she didn't love him.  She could hardly do that in one night.  But a part of her heart was with him, finally understanding that he was more than an arrogant, cruel, taunting boy who lived to make her life miserable.  She realized she had pigeonholed him, dismissing him as an unfeeling minion of Evil, never bothering to delve below the façade.  She realized she was as guilty of stereotyping him as a future Death Eater as he had been of stereotyping her as a know-it-all Mudblood.  Her eyes had been opened at his tentative offer of friendship [and more] but though she didn't know what had brought around _his_ change, she wasn't willing to risk her newfound friend.

"Draco."  She tugged at the sleeve of his robe, her eyes silently asking him to leave off her friends.

He relented.  "Sorry Potter, Weasley," he grunted.  He turned from them and smiled down at Hermione.  "Sorry for offending your friends," he whispered.

Her heart leaped.  There was hope.  He was as willing as she to work to make this—this whatever it was—work.  "Apology accepted."  She smiled back at him.

Their classmates, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, gaped at them in identical expressions of stunned disbelief.  Neville even rubbed his eyes to make sure he was hallucinating.

Snape was likewise shocked.  But he knew the reason behind Draco's kindness and was determined to strip him of that.  "Draco," he demanded, forgoing all pretenses of schoolroom etiquette.  "Mr. Malfoy" wouldn't be enough now.  He needed that boy's attention and he needed it immediately.

Draco slowly dragged his eyes from Hermione's face to Snape.  "Yes, Professor?"

"Come here.  I have something to give you."  Snape glared at him.  He didn't like this new Draco Malfoy.  "_Now_," he ordered grimly.

"Yes, Professor," Draco reiterated with a complacent smile.  His tone, however, suggested that he was merely indulging his favorite teacher on what appeared to be an ambiguous whim.  "I'll be just a moment," he told Hermione, trailing his fingers swiftly across her cheek and leaving her, flushed and riddled with memories of last night, to follow Snape.  As the two disappeared, the rest of the class returned to work on their Polyjuice Potions, albeit with more whispers and murmurs than usual.

A few minutes passed and neither professor nor student returned, and Hermione was casting anxious looks at the closed door leading to Snape's office.  She shook her head and added the last ingredient to her potion—her proficiency explained by her previous experience with making the potion in her second year, though no one was aware of that except her, Harry, and Ron.  Ignoring Goyle, who had been of absolutely no help, Hermione sat back on her stool and stirred the simmering brew.

"Hermione!"

Hermione turned to stare.  Ginny was standing next to her, a note in hand.  There was a grin on her freckled face.  "Hi."

"What are you doing here?"

"Dumbledore sent me here with a message for Snape," answered the redhead dismissively.  She peered over Hermione's shoulder at the cauldron.  "What's that?"

"Polyjuice Potion."

"Oh!  The one that will turn you into another person."

"How did you know that?"

Ginny grinned.  "You're not the only person who can read, Hermione!"  She glanced around and waved at her brother and Harry.  "Have you seen Snape?"

Sighing, Hermione said, "He's in his office…talking to Draco."

"Draco?  _Draco_.  What happened to 'Mal—'" Ginny gasped, her eyes flying to Hermione's.  "Don't tell me _he_ was the one last night…?"

A small nod.

"Oh Hermione!"  Ginny looked positively appalled.  "You're joking!  I hope you slapped his face!"  Her fair skin was becoming splotched with the flush of anger.  "The nerve of that git, writing that fake love poem!  What a horrible joke!

"What makes you think it _was_ a joke?" Hermione asked tightly, pursing her lips in suppressed anger.

Ginny's mouth dropped open.  "Hermione?"

"Hmph."  Hermione didn't say anything more and continued stirring her Polyjuice Potion.  It said a lot that Ginny thought she was so unattractive that even Draco wouldn't consider her.  Hermione blinked.  But she couldn't blame the girl.  The Malfoy Ginny had known had always called Hermione a Mudblood, and there had more of a chance of a snow day in hell than him ever writing her a love poem… "Look Gin, I'm sorry."

But Ginny looked preoccupied.  Snape and Draco had just exited Snape's office, Snape with a satisfied look on his face and Draco with a scowl.  He practically emanated fury, his gray eyes darkening to black and glittering with venom.  He strode directly to Hermione, his intention to viciously lash into her with his verbal abuse apparent to everyone except the girl herself.  She smiled shyly at him, causing a brief snort of disbelief, as he made his way to her.

"Malfoy."  Ginny stopped him with a hand to his sleeve.

"Hey!" Pansy shoved her way next to Ginny.  She gave the red-haired girl an angry glare.  "Get your hands off Draco!"

Ginny looked annoyed.  She pushed Pansy away and returned her narrowed eyes to Draco.

"Sod off, Weasley," he bit out.

Ron started off his seat.  "Don't you dare talk to her like that," he growled protectively.

Harry stayed him with a hand on his shoulder, but joined in with the death glares at Draco.  Ginny edged nervously towards them, backing away from Hermione and Draco's approaching form, past Goyle, standing next to his and Hermione's cauldron with a clueless look on his face [per the usual], finally ending up beside her brother.

"Draco?"  Hermione uttered his name softly, confusion gleaming clearly in her brown eyes.

"Hermione."  The name came out of his lips mockingly.  He stepped up to her stool, until only inches separated them.  Her head tilted as she gazed up at him.

"You had your fun with me this past day, didn't you?" he asked, his tone deliberately soft and threatening.  "You had fun having a Malfoy dangle from your filthy little finger, didn't you, Mudblood?"

Hermione gasped.  "Dra—" She swallowed and then slowly shook her head.  "Malfoy," she whispered, horror dawning in her eyes.  It had been a prank.  It had all been a bloody prank, just as Ginny had supposed.  He didn't really care for her…all those secrets, all those stories about his home, his family, his life…they'd probably all been bloody _lies_.  "You—you unbelievable _bastard_!" she cried.

"Ms. Granger!"  Snape's cold voice interrupted this little drama.  "That will be enough.  We have a class.  Five points from Gryffindor for disrupting the learning processes of fellow students."

He was ignored as Draco leant forward and grasped Hermione's wrist, jerking her forward.  He glared down at her.  "You had your fun, Granger.  Now let me have mine."  Whirling, he whipped out his wand and pointed it in the direction of Snape's office.  "_Accio Amoura Potion!_"  A bottle of sloshing lavender liquid with heart-shaped bubbles flew into his hands.  Wrapping his long, pale fingers around the neck, Draco turned and cocked a brow at Hermione.

"Open wide," he coaxed tauntingly.  With a quick movement, he twisted the stopper out and lifted the bottle towards her mouth.

"NO!  Hermione!"  Ginny, the first to realize his intention, dashed from Ron's side, her wand drawn.  She tripped over Goyle, standing in the way uselessly, and almost landed face-first in the cauldron of Hermione's bubbling Polyjuice Potion.  She heaved herself up, and in a single blink, all memory of seeing hairs floating in the brew, vanished.

"Draco!" Pansy gasped in horror.  He couldn't possibly be trying to make that _Mudblood_ fall in love with him, could he?

"Stop this insanity," bellowed Snape, his wand also raised.

"Malfoy, you arsehole!" Ron shouted, drawing out his wand.

Lavender shrieked and ducked under the table.

"Ron!  Don't!"  Harry tried to stop his friend from a repeat of yesterday's class.  Unheedingly, Ron pitched his Potions book at the Slytherin's head.

Draco ducked.  "Weasley!" he yelled.  "You meddling little prat."  He shoved the bottle to Hermione's lips.  "Drink it," he ordered tersely, his free hand pointing his wand at her threateningly.

Hermione kicked him.  "Bastard," she hissed.  "I hate you."  But she shouldn't have opened her mouth at all, for Draco took the opportunity to tilt the contents of the bottle toward her lips.

"_Potionia Replacatum!_" yelled Ginny.  Sparkles shot from the tip of her wand and wound itself around the Amoura Potion and the closest potion at hand—Hermione's Polyjuice Potion.  Instantaneously, the two swapped places and it was a silvery liquid that spilled into Hermione's mouth, rather than a lavender one.

A shocked silence filled the room.  Relief, from the Gryffindors, that Hermione hadn't been forced to swallow the Amoura Potion, and Annoyance, from the Slytherins, that they wouldn't get to see Miss Know-It-All trailing after Draco like a lost puppy.

Snape glowered at the class.  "Twenty points from _both_ houses," he snapped.  He couldn't believe what he had just witnessed.  _Unbelievable_.  "You know better than to try to use an illegal potion, Mr. Malfoy.  Your father would not be pleased to see you sent to Azkaban, I'm sure."  Then he glared at the Gryffindors.  "And you, Granger, Weasley, if I ever see such a scene again, I'll have you both expelled.  Ms. Brown, do not ever let me hear that disgustingly shrill scream of yours, it nearly took my hearing.  And Longbottom, I see you've upset your cauldron.  May I presume you won't be getting your potion correct—again?"  He eyed the half-finished Polyjuice Potion Neville had knocked off the table in his nervousness.  "Pathetic," he commented contemptuously.  His flicked his gaze to Ginny, breathing hard, hair mussed, freckles standing out in stark relief against her pale skin.

"_Another_ Weasley.  What in Salazar's name do _you_ want, Ms. Weasley?" he asked coldly.  "If I recall correctly, you no more belong in this class than your equally incompetent brother."

Ron's fists tightened.

"I came to give you a note from Professor Dumbledore, sir."  Ginny's response was flagrantly defiant.  She handed him the missive, crumpled from her fists.

Snape took it with a scowl and unfolded it.

"_Hermione_!"  Harry's gasp echoed through the silent room.  While everyone else had been watching Snape's tirade, Harry's eyes had been drawn automatically to his friend.  She had staggered off her stool and was clutching her sides, doubled over in what could only be described as [if the expression on her face could be interpreted correctly] agony.

Snape's head immediately snapped in her direction.  He stared at her.  "The Polyjuice Potion," he muttered.  His brow furrowed.  "There should be no change—there was nothing in the potion."  He swept the students with a suspicious glare.  "Was there?"

Silence was his only answer.

--

*By nothing, Snape meant that no one had put their hair, skin, eyelash, whatever, in the potion, thereby completing it and forcing a change if one should drink it.

A/N: Hey everyone!  Chapter four is _finally_ done!  Sorry, I know it's a little…OOC.  If a chapter can be OOC.  lolz Sorry, but I couldn't figure out a better way to incorporate the "second incident" with the Polyjuice Potion.  You'll find out who Hermione changes into in the next chapter!  Oh, and you'll have to excuse my use of brackets, too.  I have lots of fun with them, using them in replacement of parentheses.  One of my little quirks. ^_^ Thanks to all who reviewed!!  

Another thing—forgive me for Hermione's somewhat OOC-ness.  [Yeah, this chapter is just rife with it.]  I realize, in real life, that she really wouldn't be so nice to Draco after just an hour in the Astronomy Tower…she'd more likely be suspicious of his niceness… But hey, this is my fic and I'm not patient enough to wallow through six chapters of Hermione debating with herself over whether or not she can trust Draco!  Bear with me—I want a fluffy, happy D/Hr fic with as little angst as possible.  [Some will still be present—otherwise this fic would lose its last, tenuous touch w/ reality. ^­_~] Though some of you might be happy to hear to I'm sick to death of writing Fluffy!Draco…which explains the return of Scowling!Mocking!Meanie!Draco.  I needed that smirking, sneering, all-around stuck-up bad boy Slytherin attitude back.  Fluffy!Draco was grating on my nerves with his annoyingly cliché platitudes of love.  Grr.

Right now, this fic is meant to be a cute, fluffy, somewhat humorous, feel-good story.  With a plot.  Er, maybe. ^.^;; I may alter it in later chapters to have a darker and more sinister tone, or I may not.  I have this whole Evil, Glaring Lucius Threatening Draco's Life picture in my mind but that kind of spoils the whole feel-good theme, doesn't it?  *grins* I'll probably stick him in a different D/Hr fic.

Alright, enough of my rambling.  Review [ß blatant, obvious, no-holds-barred hint] and tell me how you like the story so far!


	5. Hide and Seek

Potions Homework

A/N: Maybe it's not obvious, but there _is_ someone behind all these incidents.  Hermione didn't shout "Hugz-o-palooza" of her own accord in chapter two and someone _did_ put a strand of hair in her Polyjuice Potion.  All guesses welcome!  I'll give more hints in this chapter…^_^

--

5. Hide and Seek

"Are you angry with me?"

"Should I be angry with you?"

"I don't know.  Should you?"

"Probably."

…

"Look, despite what you might think, I didn't put my hair or anything in the Polyjuice Potion.  Did you really think I would want a carbon copy of myself—perfect as is—wandering around?  There's only one of me and that's more than enough for this world."

"That's an understatement."

"Look, Granger, I didn't do it!  I didn't even make you drink the stupid potion.  It was that Weasley girl."

…

"Stop looking at me like that."

"I'm sorry.  Would you prefer the lovesick, adoring gaze you see each time you look in the mirror?  Or is the malicious smirk you grace us with so often your favorite expression?  This good enough for you?"

"God, stop it.  That's horrible."

"It's your face."

"With you in it.  That's just not right."

"You're telling me."

…

"Think they're gone yet?"

"Doubt it."

"I can't believe I'm stuck hiding in this broom closet with you."

"It's not exactly my dream come true, either, Malfoy."

"You'd think Snape would be more understanding."

"Yeah, since he obviously favors the Slytherins."

"Says the girl who's McGonagall's pet and best friends with Dumbledore's beloved Potter.  Don't talk to me about favoritism."

"Shut up, Malfoy.  We're not favored."

"Bull."

…

"Glaring at me isn't going to make it less true."

…

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Granger.  Give it a rest.  We've been stuck in this closet for the past half an hour, hiding from a rampaging Pansy whose dreams have all come true.  If she can't have me…she'll settle for a look-a-like…"

"Excuse me?  _What_ was that?"

"Nothing."

"Did you say something about Pansy Parkinson going after _me_?!"

"You know, my voice really isn't suited to shrieking… It doesn't exactly help conceal us either…"

"That's _disgusting_!"

"Yeah, well, you don't have to share a common room with her.  Consider yourself lucky."

…

"You know, it's your fault we're hiding."

"What?  How is it _my_ fault?  I didn't turn you into me!"

"If you weren't such a git, Harry and Ron wouldn't want to kill you.  And I wouldn't have to be hiding from them because they might accidentally hex me instead since they can't _tell the difference_ between us anymore!"

"I repeat, Granger, it was that Weasley girl who made you drink the potion.  Why aren't you mad at her?"

"Who said I'm not?  But her intentions were pure, at least.  She was trying to save me from _you_, Malfoy.  She didn't want to see me helplessly in love with _you_ after you forced me to drink the Amoura Potion."

"Whereas she probably found it hilarious when you had me dangling on a string from your finger."

"I didn't even tell her about us!"

"There _is_ no us."

"I never made you drink the Amoura Potion.  I didn't even _know_ you were acting under the potion… I thought you were… I would _never_ stoop to such conniving tactics.  Do you think I'm so desperate for love I would _force_ someone to love me?  What kind of love what that be?"

…

"You know what, Malfoy?  You're just petty.  Petty and malicious.  The only reason you wanted me to be in love with you was so you could play with me!"

"That could be interpreted in so many different ways…"

"You pervert!"

"I'm a sixteen-year-old guy.  What did you expect?"

"Ooh, you're just as frustrating as Ron!"

"_Don't_ compare me to Weasley."

"Why not?  He's no worse than you.  You're both perverted sixteen-year-old guys who have no consideration for girls.  No, Ron's better than you—at least he doesn't do it on purpose!  And you can't compare bloodlines—his is just as, if not more, pure than yours, Malfoy.  Why do you have your nose stuck in the air like that?  Just because you have more money doesn't mean you're better!"

"Doesn't it?  Tell me, can Weasley afford a Firebolt?"

"No.  But you don't have one either, do you?  Care to share why that is?"

"Father won't buy me one until I beat Potter in Quidditch match…"

"So you _aren't_ any better.  You can afford better things, true, but what's the use of any of those things if your personality is so horrible you have to _buy your friends_?"

…

"I…"

"That was uncalled for, Granger."

"I'm sor… I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to—"

"I rather think you did."

…

"You're right.  I did.  But I'm sorry."

…

"I'm stunned, Granger.  You actually apologized for something you did…"

"I'm not quite as high in the instep as you."

…

"You really didn't know I was under the Amoura Potion?"

"I knew you were inflicted with the potion.  When Ron, Harry, and I stopped at the hospital wing yesterday to apologize, we saw Madam Pomfrey's note.  But since no one said the activation word, I thought the effects were still dormant."

"You were there to _apologize_?  For what?"

"Ron was going to apologize for knocking you onto the ground in Potions."

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Wow."

…

"Wait.  What do you mean no one said the activation word?  I distinctly recall hearing someone say it… _You_, in fact."

"_What_?"

"_You_ said 'hugz-o-palooza.'  When you guys were in the hospital wing, I heard you say it.  Several times."

"…I thought you were unconscious!  I never would've said _anything_ if I thought you could hear me! …I don't even know what compelled me to shout it so much.  I was just explaining to Ginny what had happened to you when I had a sudden compulsion… It's weird."

…

"Do you know how highly disturbing it is having this conversation with someone who looks exactly like myself?"

"No and I don't particularly care to."

…

"Malfoy…I have a question."

"What?"

"Last night…all those things you said… Were they true?"

…

"Malfoy?"

"I was in love, Granger.  Why would I have lied to someone I was head over heels for?"

"So they were true."

…

"And the things you said to me?"

"I don't lie, Malfoy."

"Except to save Potter and Weasley's arses."

"I'll do anything for my friends.  Even if it's something they don't agree with."

"That's some loyalty."

"That's friendship."

…

"Is it worth it?"

"What was that?"

"I said, is it worth it?"

…

"Definitely."

…

"You surprise me sometimes, Granger."

"Likewise."

…

"Hey, Granger?  I was wonder—"

"Shh!"

…

"Hermione?  Are you in there?"

"Oh my God, it's Harry!  How did he—oh Merlin, his _map_!"

"What map?"

"_Shh_."

"Hermione.  I know you're in there.  And Malfoy, too."

"_Malfoy__, don't open the_—!"

…

"Hi."

"Hello, Harry."

"Potter."

"Malfoy."

"My hair!"

…

"Look!  My hair is changing back!  The hour's almost up.  Malfoy, I don't have to look like you anymore!"

"Oof."

"_Hermione_!  Get _off_ him."

"It's just a hug, Potter.  Sod off."

"Hermione!  What about Ron?"

"What about him?  He likes Parvati anyway."

…

"He does?"

"Honestly!  Considering the amount of time you spend with him, you'd think you'd notice something, Harry.  Boys are so unobservant."

"But he—_Hermione_!"

"Grang—?  Mmkmphf."

…

"_Holy_—"

"Did Harry leave?"

"Who gives a flying Galleon about Potter?  Where did you _learn_ that, Granger?"

"You."

"…What?"

"You taught me a lot of things last night, Malfoy, love potion or not.  And I'm a fast learner."

…

"I can_not_ believe you just kissed me like that."

…

"You're not under the Amoura Potion, are you?"

"No, Malfoy, I'm not."

…

"You know this will never work between us, right?"

"I know.  You're an arrogant ass and I'm a Muggle-born.  Your father is a Death-Eater and my best friend is the Boy Who Lived.  I don't believe in stereotypes but I'm hardly stupid, either."

…

"You're so pretty… When did you get so pretty, Granger?"

"Five seconds after you went blind, apparently." *

…

"Hermione…"

"DRACO!!"

"_Pansy_!"

"Bye, Malfoy."

…

"And she leaves…just like that.  Figures.  Argh, Pansy!  _Get off_!"

--

* "When did you get so pretty, Granger?" "Five seconds after you went blind, apparently." Quote credited to Ash Jay from her fic "Tie Me With Velvet".  If you haven't read it, READ IT.  It's a kick-butt D/Hr story.

A/N: Thank you, thank you, that's chapter five.  It's titled "Hide and Seek" mainly because Hr and D are stuck in a broom closet together, hiding from Pansy and Snape and Harry and Ron and the rest of the world.  However, it's also hinting about the emotional mind games they're playing with each other.  Notice how much nicer Malfoy is in this chapter, especially after he's taken the antidote?  Supposedly very OOC, but you have to realize, you're looking into their conversation after they've already been stuck together for half an hour.  Their earlier arguments (which I didn't feel like writing, lazy bum that I am ^_^) have already taken place.  I know there's very little plot but I thought it'd be fun to do an all dialogue chapter.  The next one will be a real, description-laden chapter, promise.

Oh, and in case it wasn't obvious, Hermione was Polyjuiced into Draco.  Who did it is the question…and why?  o.O

Review, please!  Muchos gracias.


	6. Endless Possibilities

Potions Homework

A/N: I suppose by now you've realized there was absolutely no point to Hermione being Polyjuiced into Draco other than for me to stick them in a broom closet together and work out some of their issues?  Well, at least the second incident's over…

--

6. Endless Possibilities

Harry had just been scarred for life.  No, not like that.  It wasn't a physical, lightning bolt-shaped scar but it marked him just the same.  Well, not quite the same.  It affected his mental and emotional stability [he should consider a therapist.  Or a lawsuit] rather than his physical health.

As he stumbled up the steps leading to the Gryffindor tower, thankfully distanced from the second floor broom closet where he'd discovered his best friend and worst enemy, Harry mind was still numb with shock.

Hermione?  Hermione and _Malfoy_?

What on heaven, earth, or hell, had transpired that she would turn to _him_?  It couldn't be the love potion, he was positive, because he'd seen for himself that Ginny had switched the potions to save Hermione.  But had she really saved her?  True, instead of falling desperately in love with Malfoy, Hermione had turned into a carbon copy of him, but what he'd just witnessed a few minutes ago really made Harry wonder if maybe turning into Malfoy had addled Hermione's brain as well.

Hermione?  _Kissing_ Malfoy?

Either the little devils downstairs were planning an ice-skating tournament or there was a big glitch in His computer upstairs.  Harry wasn't happy with the results either way. [Ahem, lawsuit.]

Confused, stunned, and disgusted as he was, Harry was certain of one thing.

There was absolutely, positively, no way in Grimm's fairy tales was he going to tell Ron what he'd just seen.

Parvati or not, the redheaded Weasley wasn't likely to react well.

~

Ginny sighed.  Why was it all taking so long?  Bloody— _Patience, __Virginia__, patience_, she coached herself silently, taking a deep breath.  She chanted her newfound mantra to herself: _Good things come to those who wait._  And boy, was she experienced with waiting.

Just a little longer.  Things were coming along swimmingly.  Everything would be fine.  [_It damn well better be after all the time I've invested in this! _Ginny thought fiercely.]

She allowed herself a little smile.

~

That night, in the Great Hall [think food! Think enchanted ceiling!  Think the author's running out of original locales…] Hermione was poking at her food in a decidedly un-Hermione way.  While the Gryffindors were used to seeing Harry or even Ron push their food around on their plates, mumbling about not being hungry, Hermione had always been the practical one.  And wasting food when one's body depended on it for energy just wasn't practical.  And let's not get into the whole "house-elves are slaving away in the kitchens to prepare your meal, how do you show your appreciation?" issue…

But tonight, Hermione was assuredly not eating.  Her mashed potatoes had been sculpted into a lump that vaguely resembled a dragon, her sliced carrots were stacked in three even piles of four, and her Oriental chicken and broccoli were coated with a layer of almond sauce in which the initial D had been etched.

"Taking the subtle approach, are we?" Harry whispered, eyeing her monogrammed chicken in disgust.  "Do you _want_ a certain, unnamed Weasley to figure out?"

Hermione glanced across the table at the Weasley in question.  Ron was happily gnawing at a chicken leg, barbeque sauce dripping down his chin.  She glanced at Harry, who sat beside her, with a questioning expression on her face.  _That Weasley?_ her eyes seemed to ask, gleaming with faint amusement.

Harry bit his lip in consideration.  "Okay, so he probably wouldn't notice at dinner…but _honestly_."  He reached over and smeared the D back into a glop of sauce.  "Eat, Hermione," he said in exasperation.

"I can't."

A concerned look crossed his face.  While Harry knew just how unappealing Malfoy was to _his_ appetite, considering Hermione's current…er…preoccupation with him, she really oughtn't to be reacting in quite the same way.  Unless of course, kissing that unspeakable git had somehow robbed her of her ability to eat…

"Oh Harry, I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't _think_!"  Hermione latched on to his arm, her brown eyes shining [with excitement, happiness, or lust, Harry wasn't sure].  "I know it's horrible but…oh, it makes me dizzy."  The smile on her face was wide.  "Being in love, why, it's such a _lovely_ feeling."

" 'Lovely,' " he repeated dryly.

Hermione looked embarrassed suddenly.  "I know I've said romance was a big waste of time and whatnot," she admitted, twirling her fork idly, "and that our studies should be our focus but, oh, I never knew…" A dreamy looked crossed her face again.  Then, hastily, her gaze clearing, she added, "Not that I've forgotten about school.  No sir!  Our exams are coming up—have you been studying?" she asked severely.  Then, "That reminds me, I have that Transfiguration research to do…and that Arithmancy…oh damn."

She sounded, Harry thought warmly, quite put out.

Oh, not that he took any pleasure in her distress, quite the opposite, in fact.  She was, after all, his best friend, and he certainly wouldn't wish any unhappiness on her [even if it was finishing a homework assignment one week instead of two weeks before it was due].  It was just such a relief to hear Hermione mutter about schoolwork—it was so _normal_ and so out of place with recent events.  It was quite a nice feeling.

"Ron, Ron, oh _do_ take that cherry tart out of your mouth.  You do know you're not _supposed_ to fit the entire thing in your mouth, don't you?"  Hermione was giving Ron a look that said she rather doubted the extent of his intelligence.  "Come on, finish up.  We have to go to the library!"

Ron gave her a questioning look, his mouth too full to speak.

"Why?" Harry was more articulate.

"To study, of course!"

"Why?"  Slightly.

Hermione frowned at his plaintive tone.  "Oh, shush, the both of you.  If you want to pass your exams this term—_without_ cramming for them two hours before you take them, like you did last year—then you'd better follow my advice."  She set her fork down next to her rather full plate and stood up, surveying her friends and the rest of the Gryffindor table with an imperious stare.  "Let's go."

Harry sighed.  Oh the bitter, bitter irony.  It _would_ have to come back and bite him in the nose, wouldn't it?  To think, merely seconds ago, he'd been welcoming the fact that Hermione was obsessing over her studies.

"Hurry _up_, Harry!  Ron!"

Damn, damn, damn—ow!  Harry glowered at Hermione's fork.  Apparently, now a frustrated sixteen-year-old couldn't even bang his fist on the table without being bodily harmed.  Honestly, was the entire _world out to get him?  He rubbed the side of his hand, grimacing._

Oh, that's right.  It was.

~

The next day was a Saturday.  A sunny and warm Saturday with an incredibly blue sky and puffy white clouds and a remarkably gentle breeze blowing in from the south.  It was definitely an out-of-ordinary Saturday for Scotland, especially in October.  The kind of Saturday where students put off their weekend homework for another day and spent hours lying in the sun, hoping for a tan (the Patil twins had recruited many of their friends to sunbathe with them on the front lawn), playing Quidditch (the Ravenclaw team was currently practicing), going for a row on the lake (Justin Finch-Fletchley was at the moment wondering whether or not to make Terry Boot the giant squid's midday snack), or just going for a romp on the grass (Lavender's high-pitched squeals of laughter indicated Seamus's playful mood).

It was definitely the kind of Saturday reserved for enjoying oneself.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron, however, were studying.

The only highlight that the two boys could discern was that at least they were studying outside.  Though, sometimes, Ron wondered if it wasn't just further torture, being so close to one's desire and heaving it constantly denied by the fierce glare piercing him from a pair of formidable brown eyes.

"Hermione," he grumbled.

"Would you care to explain why Ashwinders are considered dangerous?" she snapped, irked by his complaining tone.

He stared moodily up at the branches of the oak tree they were sitting under.  Or rather, Hermione was sitting under.  He and Harry were more or less sprawled on the grass, propped up on their elbows as they flipped listlessly through their textbooks.  "Because they're born from fire and lay eggs whose hatchlings will scorch anything they touch."*

A smile smoothed her furrowed brow.  "You _have been paying attention!" she exclaimed delightedly._

Harry groaned.  Hermione glanced at him.  He was staring in the direction of the Quidditch pitch.

Hermione sighed.

Ron continued staring at the red and gold leaves of the oak above him (_Gryffindor colors_, he thought bemusedly) that were faintly tinged with the brown color of death (_Funny, I always thought black was associated with death.).  He sighed._

Harry ran a hand through his hair, shoving his fringe out of his eyes as he gazed in the direction of the Quidditch field, tensing imperceptibly when he caught sight of the new Ravenclaw Seeker (_I miss Cho, he thought, __she never really acknowledged my presence but at least it was someone to crush on…now who do I have?  Ginny?  No…too much like a sister.  Hermione?  No…not with her current obsession over Malfoy.  Parvati?  No…I'd like to be able to hold a conversation that isn't all about makeup and cute guys.  Oh hell.)  He sighed._

"All right, all right!"  Hermione threw her hands up in exasperation.  "You're obviously not going to keep your minds on school, no matter how important it is."  She smiled at them resignedly.  "Go.  Run off.  Have fun.  Watch the Ravenclaws practice so we can wipe the Quidditch pitch with them next Saturday."

The Gryffindor Seeker and Chaser's eyes lit up.

"Thanks Hermione!" called out Ron, hurriedly gathering his textbooks and springing to his feet.

"You're a doll, love."  Harry grinned at her and was already heading towards the dorm, ready to drop off his school things and pick up his Quidditch gear.  In his eagerness, he had already started pulling off his jumper, his books jammed in the bag levitating by his side [It was a useful spell only seventh-years were allowed to perform.  They did have quite a few more subjects than the younger students, after all.].  No less than three girls basking in the late morning sunlight whistled in appreciation at the expanse of tanned skin revealed when the shirt Harry had been wearing under his cardigan was dragged up along with his jumper.

Hermione groaned and buried her face in her hands.  Oh Merlin.  Harry was becoming such the ladies' man.  It was quite funny, actually, when it wasn't so embarrassing…

She supposed it was because she had known him when he was the short, gangly, eleven-year-old clueless about the world of magic.  It rather ruined any perception she could've held as him being the—how did it go?—ruthless charmer.  She snorted at the thought.

"Harry," she snickered to herself.  "A 'ruthless charmer.'  That'll be the day."

"I quite agree."

Hermione whirled around.  "Draco!" she gasped, her eyes flying upwards.

Leaning casually against the trunk of the tree, his hands tucked in his pockets, the golden sunlight highlighting his features as if he were some sort of god, was Draco Malfoy.  "Potter will never hope to achieve the status I have," he drawled, a faint smirk playing across his lips.

And Merlin, did he look edible.

Hermione blinked.  Where had that come from?

"What are you doing here?" she asked instead, shifting the heavy DADA textbook on her lap self-consciously.

"I go to school here, Granger."

She narrowed her eyes.  "You know what I mean," she said impatiently.

He pushed himself off the tree and sidled to stand in front of her.  He gazed down at her face, now lined with exasperation, framed with wavy brown hair that she hadn't bothered to tie back that day.  "I was looking for you," he said simply.

"Why?"

"Just to talk."  Draco seated himself beside her.  "Are you honestly studying for the exams?"  He picked up her Arithmancy book and flipped through it, noting the color-coded stickers marking specific pages and highlighted notes. 

Hermione crossed her arms.  "Yes," she said defiantly, "I am.  And I presume you haven't started at all?"

He grinned at her.  "I'm done, love."

Her mouth fell open.  "B-but…you…" She collected her wits.  "Well, that's just a _horrible attitude.  We're still learning new things—you have to review everything constantly, up until the exams!  Otherwise, nothing will be fresh in your mind and you'll know maybe half the exam and after that, you'll just fail miserably!  Why Draco, if you really want any chance at beating me for top marks you'll have to—"_

A finger placed gently on her lips stopped her mid-sentence.

"You talk too much, Hermione."

She found herself at a loss for words, the look in his glittering gray eyes robbing her of speech.  When did he get so close?  When had it gotten so hot?  Why was her head spinning like she was on an out-of-control carousal? 

"Draco…" she murmured, staring wide-eyed at him.  She struggled to regain her thoughts.  Pushing him back slightly, she said softly, "I thought you said it'd never work between us."

And it wouldn't.

Even though the war was over and the Light side had won, Lucius Malfoy lived.  He was in Azkaban, true, and Hermione couldn't even begin to imagine how horrible that was for Draco.  Lucius had been a Death Eater and had killed dozens of innocents and undoubtedly deserved to be in wizard's prison, but still, he was Draco's father.  And he still had a hold over the young Malfoy.  He had the first fifteen years of Draco's life, a youth he'd spent not merely influencing but instructing his son in the ways of the Dark Arts.  And he had ingrained a sense of supremacy in his heir, a condescension towards lesser people, and an arrogance born of a Malfoy.  It wouldn't be easy to change.

But the real question, Hermione thought, even as her heart raced wildly, was whether or not he wanted to.

"It won't," Draco agreed, his face inches from hers.

Her hopes fell.  He wasn't willing to make things work between them…

"But," he added, an intent look on his face.

"But…" she echoed, hope flaring again.

Sunlight dappled his light hair as he drew back from her, leaving his sentence unfinished and her with a sense of loss and feeling rather cold in the breeze.  He stared at her and she returned the look, a silence falling between them that neither seemed eager to breach.  Draco sat back and loosened his silver and green tie.

Hermione looked sadly at it.  It was a symbol of how different they were.  Slytherin.  Gryffindor.  Pureblood.  Muggle-born.  Heck, even their coloring—light, dark.  Though that in itself was a bit of irony, Hermione thought.  His coloring was very, very light.  Pale blonde hair and a paler complexion that rarely ever tanned.  Yet he had been on the Dark side.  And she, with her dark hair and olive complexion, had been fighting for the Light.

Hermione lowered her gaze to the grass beneath her.  Green.  Scattered upon it were the fallen leaves from the oak tree above.  Red.

Slytherin.

"But," Draco said again, his voice so quiet she almost didn't hear him above the shouting of nearby students.

Gryffindor.

"We can try."

Her eyes met his.

"In vain?"  It was a question.

"Probably."

She edged her hand toward his.  "I don't care," she said determinedly, sliding her hand into his.  "We'll try."

He looked at her for a moment.  Then, "Exactly what I expected from the little Gryffindor bookworm."  He was smirking at her.  "Stubborn little girl, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?"  She gaped at him.  "I happen to be a prefect!  Destined to be Head Girl next year.  _And I have the highest marks in our year.  It's not stubbornness, it's determination!"_

"May I remind you that I'm also a prefect, will probably be Head Boy next year, _and_ have the second highest marks in our year?"

Hermione looked at him.  "We're not that different, after all…" she said softly, wonderingly.

"You know I'm only joking, Hermione?"

"You're a git, Draco."

His mouth twitched and Hermione thought she saw signs of that telltale smirk.  It didn't bother her…somehow, now, she found it quite endearing.  "You know you are."

"Yes, I rather think I am."

He kissed her.

And Hermione decided that Draco Malfoy may be a git, but he was most definitely her git.

--

A/N: Aww, how sweet… lolz Don't worry, this isn't the end.  I do have to explain who instigated this whole mess, right?  [If you don't already know, I'm not going to tell you…]  It'll be cleared up next chapter.  Which might be the last.  Who knows?  Decisions, decisions.

As for now, go review!

* Ashwinders are in Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them.  I've read the book but I don't actually have it as a reference… I know Ashwinders are born in fire and lay their eggs, but I'm not completely sure why those eggs are so dangerous.  Mostly I remember that Ashwinder eggs are used in Love Potions ^_^ So if you discover something amiss, just Owl me.  Or leave a review.  (Hint, hint)


	7. Rule Number 128

Potions Homework 

7. Rule #128

Draco was nervous, which was understandable, considering he was about to go through an ordeal that was the equivalent of meeting his girlfriend's parents—only worse.  After all, most adults, however overprotective, had mastered the art of constraining their fury.  Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were a different story.  In addition to their hot tempers, they disliked [that was somewhat of an understatement] Draco to boot.  Suffice to say that it didn't bode well for him.

But a Malfoy, nervous?  Never.  Though Draco wasn't his father's biggest fan, he had still been raised to strictly obey the _Malfoy__ Family Code of Conduct_, which stated in Rule #23 the following: A Malfoy is never nervous or anxious because he will always have total control over the situation (or at least act like it).

So Draco fought the urge to take a deep breath (which would indicate the need to calm oneself down and to a Malfoy would be completely unnecessary as they had complete control over the situation) and schooled his features into his well-known smirk.  His appearance was impeccable as always—every hair in place, every crease in his Slytherin house robes smoothed out, and black loafers polished to a shine.  The only thing that marred his sexy-and-unapproachable unchallenged prince of Slytherin image was the brown-haired Gryffindor attached to his side, her hand in his.

"Are you all right with this?"  Hermione peered up at him with questioning eyes.

"Of course."  His voice, Draco noted with satisfaction, belied none of the anxiety he was most definitely not feeling.

"If you're sure, then."  Hermione squeezed his hand and continued to lead him down the corridor.

Draco noted his unfamiliarity of the passing hallways with a growing horror.  "Don't tell me you're taking me to the _Gryffindor__Tower_, Hermione!  I thought you had more sense than that."

She glanced at him briefly.  "Then where would _you_ suggest?" she asked, exasperated.

"An empty classroom," he replied promptly.  "There are many conveniently empty classrooms in Hogwarts.  They're good for snogging, plotting, and being interrogated by two Gryffindolts."

"Draco."

"Just because I like you doesn't mean I have to like your friends."

"Be nice.  Please?"  Her brown eyes met his imploringly.  She turned into his arms.  "I know this is hard for you.  And it won't be a picnic for Ron and Harry either.  But you guys are the three most important people in my life—short of my parents," she added after a moment of thought.  She looked up at him again, her expression beseeching.  "Please?"

He looked down at her without saying anything.  Then, with a sigh, "Just because I'm doing you this one favor, don't start thinking I've suddenly turned nice or anything."  He quirked a brow.  "It'd ruin my reputation."

She broke out into a grin and Draco got the feeling that he'd made the right decision.

He was questioning his intelligence—no, his sanity—fifteen minutes later, cornered in the empty classroom he'd so helpfully suggested by the two overprotective Gryffindolts.  Each seemed to vie to outdo the other in the number of questions asked [more points for outrageously personal ones], Spanish inquisition style.

"What do you want with Hermione?'

"What are you hiding?"

"Why should we trust you?"

"Did you Imperius Hermione?  I'll kill you, Malfoy."

"Was your father a Death Eater?"

"Are you?"

"Do you support Voldemort?"

"Why do you like Snape?"

"Why are you such a prat?"

"What does Hermione see in you?"

"Are you going to double-cross us?"

Draco held up an imperious hand, halting the voluble flow of words.  He glared at Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, both of them appearing to be on the verge of breaking a sweat after so much exertion.  Hermione sat helplessly in the background, casting sympathetic looks toward her new boyfriend.  She knew personally just how nosy and overprotective her best friends were.

Taking a deep breath, Draco rattled off, "I'm not hiding anything, no, I didn't Imperius Hermione, if you have to ask about my father, you're an idiot, no I don't support Voldemort, I like Snape because he takes points from idiots like you, I'm not a prat, Weasley, no, I won't double-cross you unless you give me a good reason, and Hermione only sees in me what every other girl at this school does.  She has good sense."  Then he looked at the two sixth-years staring wide-eyed at him.  "Any questions?"

Wrong thing to ask.

"Actually, now that you mention it—"

"Are your mother and father related?"

"What's your middle name?"

"What's your wand made out of?"

"Why do you make fun of Neville?"

"What do you Slytherins do in your common room?"

"Is it anything illegal or immoral?"

"Are you afraid of anything?"

"Do you have any weaknesses or secrets we could exploit?"

"Can I beat you to a pulp?"

"Why can't you beat me at Quidditch?"

"How did it feel, being the amazing, bouncing ferret?"

"_Ron!_"  Hermione sounded scandalized.  "Don't say that!  Draco's very sensitive on the subject."

Ron glanced at the Slytherin, who looked mildly irritated but not anywhere near the fury he was often found with when confronting Gryffindors.

Draco crossed his arms.  "My parents are not related, except by marriage, Longbottom is an idiot, my middle name is none of your business, my wand is a eleven-inch maple with a dragon heartstring, I'm not afraid of anything, and you're daft if you think I'd tell you any of my secrets.  And unless you're Slytherin, you have no business worrying about what exactly we do in our common room."  He sneered.  "But I'm sure—"

"Hi."

Four pairs of eyes swung to the door of the classroom.  Being a Saturday, not as warm as the one previous, but still quite lovely, they hadn't expected to be interrupted.  After all, what student—other than Hermione and a handful of Ravenclaws—would willingly enter a classroom during the weekend?

Apparently, Ginny Weasley would.

"What are you doing here, Ginny?" Ron wanted to know.

She blinked wide blue eyes at him.  "Er."  She blushed pink and stared at her feet.  "I was, um, wondering, if maybe Harry wanted to do something?"  She took a breath and rushed on, "It's a really nice day and I packed a picnic and I was hoping maybe we could eat by the lake and enjoy the sunshine…?"  She trailed off when she saw Harry's blank look.

"Um…" he said incoherently.

Draco was looking at her with a vaguely disdainful air.  "So this was what it was all about.  I was fairly sure from the beginning that it was you, but this just cinches it."  He sniffed.  "Weasleys.  Gryffindors.  Not what you would call clever schemers."

Hermione blinked at him.  "What _are_ you going on about, Draco?"

Ginny flushed red.  "I-I don't know what you're talking about, Malfoy."

"'Oh Potter, I idolize you so.  Please come with me on a pity date…'" mimicked Draco in a high falsetto.

"_Malfoy_!" Ron growled, curling his hands into fists.

"That's not it!" protested Ginny stridently.

Draco arched a brow.  "And I suppose Hermione's shouting 'Hugz-o-palooza' was completely accidental?"

Ginny reddened again but said nothing, setting her lips stubbornly.  Hermione was eyeing her speculatively.  It was evident that her thoughts were racing and she was working furiously to set them in order.

"And then there's the fact that it was _you_ who switched the Amoura Potion with the Polyjuice Potion."

"What are you saying, Malfoy?" Ron shouted at him.  "I won't have you make all these absurd accusations about Ginny.  Why would she have done any of that?"  He glowered.  "You make it sound like she was trying to get you and Hermione together.  Why would she have done that?!  She despises you as much as I do!"

"But you didn't know she despises me, too, did you?"

Now all the eyes swung to Hermione.  She smiled placidly.  "Ginny was jealous of my relationship with you two."  She shook her head sadly, her brown curls bouncing.  "I was best friend with both her closest brother and her secret crush for six years.  She wanted me out of the way, and by setting me up with Draco, it seemed to be the perfect revenge.  Odd how life turns out, though."  She smiled at the Slytherin by her side and took his hand.

He smiled briefly back, before lifting cold grey eyes in the youngest Weasley's direction.  "And with Hermione out of the way," he stated baldly, "she would've had a much better shot at the Boy Who Lived To Give Pathetic Schoolgirls Hope For Romance."

"Hey—"

Ron was drowned out by his sister.  "You're right."  She smiled bitterly at the couple.  "Both of you.  But it's funny how it all backfired, isn't it?"  She glared at the way their hands were entwined.

"But—Ginny?"  Harry finally spoke up, his voice soft and his expression confused.  He couldn't place this hateful, bitter girl with the one he'd rescued from the chamber almost four years ago.  "But…she…Ginny, you…"  He shook his head, sending his already mussed hair into disarray.  He blinked.  "You're such a sweet, innocent, naïve little girl…"

Ginny's face darkened.

"…who obviously has a devious side," remarked Draco, almost approvingly.  "A Slytherin trait."  Hermione shot him a sharp look and he smirked at her.  "I'm all yours, love, but I can't help it if my groupies concoct convoluted schemes to win me back."

"She was after Harry, you twat," Ron said, annoyed.

Harry, now blushing, occupied himself by staring interestedly at the ground.  Hermione ignored Draco and sighed in exasperation.  "Tell her why you can't go out with her, Harry," she ordered.

Harry shifted uncomfortably and refused to look at Ginny.  "Well, um," he muttered, "you see, Ginny.  I-er, that is… I can't go out with you because… uh, I'mhavinganaffairwithyourbrother."

Ginny blanched.

"_What_?!" demanded Ron, outraged.

Draco was convulsed with laughter.  "I knew it.  Doesn't this just beat all?  Our precious Potter is a—"

"Harry!" Hermione interrupted with a quelling glance at Draco.  "Tell her the _truth_.  Please," she added in a softer tone.

"Um."  Harry glanced up, then back down again.  "My mother left me a letter telling me I couldn't go out with girls younger than me?"

This time, even Ron snorted with laughter.

"Try again."  There was an edge to Hermione's voice.

Harry took that as a warning.  "I'm sorry Ginny, but this…is hard for me."  He looked helplessly at her, embarrassed.  "I'm flattered by your attention but—" He paused.

"But the thing is," Draco cut in smoothly, "he's desperately, madly in love with Hermione here and is currently plotting countless horrible ways to maim my supremely fit body and steal away my bookworm princess."

"And this is supposed to make her like me better, how?" mumbled Hermione to herself.

Draco smiled blandly.  "But, you see, it won't work."  He sounded vastly amused as he looped his arm around Hermione's waist and drew her to him, smirking at the incensed looks on Potter and Weasley's faces, and added, "She's far too clever to let herself be stolen away.  She loves me."

Hermione, who'd been beaming at his compliment on her intelligence, immediately flushed and protested, "You wish, you arrogant little—"

He placed a gently finger on her lips and suddenly she was riddled with memories of the previous week when he'd done the exact same thing…

"I never wish.  I know," he said smugly.  "You can't resist my charm."

Before Ron could spring across the table separating them, knocking chairs over in the process, and lunge for Malfoy's throat, which the red color of his face indicated he was ready to do, Ginny and Harry regained enough presence of mind to lay restraining hands on him.

Then Harry looked apologetically at Ginny.  "I'm sorry, Gin, but I can't go out with you because…I can't see you as anything other than a sister.  And I'm not prone to incest."  The latter was muttered under his breath, which, unfortunately, Ron caught.

"This is mental, Harry!" he declared.  "Look how Malfoy's been rubbing off on you and we've barely been here a half hour!  He's such a git."  This was accompanied by a glare.  "A bastard.  Pure evil."

Draco looked affronted.  "I'm not evil.  I prefer the term 'morally challenged.'"  He narrowed his eyes, which resulted in two things: the first being the speeding up of Hermione's heart, and second, the increasing of Ron's ire.  "And I wouldn't be bringing up the question of my birth when I'm dating a Muggleborn, Weasley.  Honestly.  What happened to that last brain cell of yours?  Had to sell it to feed your family?"

"_Malfoy__!_" chorused Ginny, Harry, and Hermione in anger.  Ron merely sputtered incoherently, the red color on his face darkening to a puce that surely couldn't be good for his health.

Draco shrugged, mostly unconcerned with a little cruelty.  He'd been born, bred, and raised this way—it had been expected of him.  One really couldn't expect so much change in him merely based on the fact that he was dating Granger, could they?  But then…he caught a sight of her face.  And behind the obvious anger in her eyes, his searching gaze found flashes of hurt and disappointment.  He flinched at the stab of guilt and coiled in his stomach.

Dash it all.

Screwing up his face in distaste, he finally muttered indistinctly, "Sorry."

Like that, Ron's jaw was hanging open.  "What?"

"I won't repeat it, Weasley," snapped Draco.

But it had been worth it.  Because when he looked at Hermione now, he saw a smile on her face.  A small smile, to be sure, but one that glowed with pride and admiration.  She was intelligent enough to know that the apology hadn't been easy for him, had gone against all the values [and self-importance] he'd been raised with, and she appreciated his effort.  And with that one smile, Draco suddenly felt much better about breaking Rule #8 in the _Malfoy__ Family Code of Conduct_.  [It followed as thus: A Malfoy shall never make an apology or sound apologetic in any way unless it is to a superior, benefits themselves in some form or fashion, or ensures their well-being and longevity of life, which would be included in the previous exception.]  

What did it matter, anyway?  He'd already broken a cardinal rule [Rule #128: A Malfoy shall never engage in a relationship of amity with any Muggleborn witch or wizard unless it is under false pretenses and for self-benefiting reasons.]  He looked down at Hermione and felt a sudden urge to grin.  She loved him.  Despite everything, he knew she did.  He grinned

Forget Rule #51 as well.

--

A/N: Thank you, I love you too!  Cookies and milk to everyone who's reviewed this story!!  [And if you really love me…go review some of my other stories…*nudge, hint, hint*]  _Finally_ chapter seven is complete and up.  Wow.  I have been stuck on this for far too long.  I'd say this about wraps it up.  I think I'll attempt an epilogue, however, just because.  Please review!


	8. Epilogue

_Disclaimer_: If I knew how to spell Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in Swahili, I would own it.  But, unfortunately, I don't.  *sigh*  And in case anyone's interested, that first sentence wasn't true either.  Just in case anyone decides to challenge it…because, really, it'd be a waste of your time.  Currently I have a grand total of $12 dollars.  Wow.  Who needs to get a summer job?  Meee…heh.

Potions Homework 

[epilogue]

_there__ once was a girl and there once was a boy_

_who__ never got along_

_because__ the boy delighted in evil ploys_

_and__ the girl found solace in her books and walks,_

_until__ one day _

_that__ boy and that girl sat down to have a talk._

_when__ she looked at him with her wide brown eyes_

_and__ said, "I'm lonely,"_

_in__ a sad kind of voice with a bit of a sigh,_

_he__ wanted to laugh, to mock, to sneer, "Is that true?"_

_just__ to see her hurt,_

_but__ instead he blinked and said, "I'm lonely too."_

_and__ from a confession the two forged a friendship,_

_tentative__ and wary._

_both__ were afraid that the other might slip_

_and__ ruin that fragile connection they shared_

_that__ was different_

_from__ others because of the secrets they'd bared._

_they__ had friends who just didn't understand_

_the__ way the two felt._

_it__ was said there was no middle ground, only no man's land,_

_but__ that boy and that girl didn't agree._

_they__ would make it work_

_and__ after many difficulties, they did succeed._

Draco had Hermione pressed up against the wall of the corridor when Harry stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, aware that it would be the last time the train would take him to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  He pulled a face when he caught the two snogging, and Ron, from behind him, exclaimed loudly, "Get a room, Malfoy!"

Flushed, Hermione pushed her boyfriend away from her and smiled sheepishly at her best friends.  "Hi Harry, Ron."

"Top o' the morning," Draco added, his usual smirk in place despite his otherwise disheveled appearance.

"Care to sit down?" asked Harry mildly.  He moved past them into a compartment, dropping his things onto the floor as he settled down.  Hermione, Draco, and Ron trailed after him and seated themselves as well, Ron beside him, and the lovebirds cuddling next to each other.

"You two are disgusting," Ron announced as Draco tugged on one of Hermione's curls and began kissing her neck.

Hermione giggled, swatted the Slytherin lightly, and answered, "Not like I haven't caught you with certain female Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in the past two years?"  She raised an eyebrow.

Ron pinked.  He grumbled something incoherent under his breath.

"Ah, anyway," Harry said delicately, changing the subject.  "How was everyone's summer?"

"Peachy," replied Draco promptly, with a lascivious wink at his girlfriend.

"That's right, Draco, you spent it with Hermione."  Harry squinted and tried to keep the mental images out of his head.  While he had become accustomed to his former rival's presence and even tolerated his frequent snogging sessions with Hermione, he was still a little uncomfortable with it.  He didn't mind the Slytherin as much—Draco was much more laid back and very noticeably less malicious than he had in earlier years, perhaps now that his father's influence on him had been removed and replaced by Hermione's had something to do with it.  And since Hermione was clearly very happy [Harry noted that she was also more relaxed lately, though still very conscientious about her studies] he really couldn't complain, could he?

Draco inched his fingers up Hermione's jumper.

"All right, all right," Harry complained, retracting his earlier thought and holding up his hands.  "That's enough.  Would you like a private compartment?"

Ron was covering his eyes [to prevent blindness] but he still managed make out Malfoy's smirk as he said, "Very much, thanks.  You can see yourself out."

"Draco," laughed Hermione.  She elbowed him lightly.  "What kind of example is our Head Boy setting?"

"I need to be alone with the Head Girl," he replied with solemnly.  "We have many new policies at Hogwarts to discuss.  Rule enforcement and new prefects and such."  He quirked an eyebrow.

Harry rolled his eyes.  "Right," he drawled, crossing his arms across his chest.  Before he could comment further, the compartment door slid open and a short, pretty girl with long black hair bounced into his arms.

"Hi, Harry!" she chirped, peppering him with kisses.

"Su!" he said, surprised.  Then his features melted into a smile and he kissed her back.

Ron groaned.  "I need a girlfriend," he muttered.  "You people really know how to make a bloke feel left out."

"Does Potter have this thing for Asian girls?" Draco asked Hermione for the fifteenth time since the Boy Who Lived had gotten together with the seventh-year Ravenclaw.  "Smart, Asian girls?"

Su Ling's head popped up.  She had overheard Draco's comment.  With a sunny smile, she said blithely, "That's redundant."  Then she wrapped her arms around her boyfriend again.

Hermione laughed.  "Yes," she said in answer to Draco's question.  "He does."  First Cho, then Li (a sixth-year Ravenclaw who had, after Harry broke up with her, gone into raptures over Blaise Zabini and was currently in a very volatile relationship with him), and now Su.

Once again, the compartment door opened without notice, and Ginny stood framed in the doorway.  "Well," she said acerbically, "it looks like everyone's warm and cozy in here.  Just wanted to tell Malfoy that Pansy's looking for you."  She smiled saccharinely.  "Sorry to disturb."  She slammed the door shut as she left.

Ron flinched.  "She's been like that since you two got together," he mumbled to Harry and Su.  At first, after her successful attempt to get Draco and Hermione together, Ginny had apologized for her scheming and had appeared to come to her senses about Harry, who had started dating Su Ling after Christmas.  She had even gone with Hermione, Harry, Su, and Ron to Malfoy Manor over the Easter holidays and had seemed to enjoy herself.  Unfortunately, three days after they'd returned, Draco had discovered that Tom Riddle's diary, the one that had caused so much trouble in Harry's second year, was missing again.

Ginny had not commented when Ron had bluntly asked her if she had it.  She'd merely blinked, said something noncommittal about the upcoming exams and too much stress, and left for her room.

"I hope she's okay," Su Ling was saying worriedly.  "I don't like it when people hate me…" She rested her head on Harry's shoulder, a small frown still on her face.

"I'll talk to her once we get to Hogwarts," Hermione promised, "She knows better than anyone what kind trouble that thing can cause."  She fingered her shiny Head Girl badge pensively as images of the terrible consequences that might occur flooded her mind.

Harry, brow wrinkled, repeated for the umpteenth time since the diary had gone missing, "But I destroyed it.  With the basilik's fang…"

"If Riddle had already worked his way into Ginny then he wouldn't need the diary to survive.  He'd be right there in her.  And once she got her hands back on the diary, she could rechannel him into it as she wrote."  Draco's voice was matter-of-fact, clearly suffering no qualms about sharing the bare facts of Dark magic items.

Ron stared at him.  "Bloody hell."  He lowered his head to his hands, gripping his fiery hair.  "Merlin, Ginny… Mum's been at a loss about her all summer."

"Maybe she'll come out of it all on her own," offered Hermione hopefully.  She didn't want anything bad to happen to the youngest Weasley.  They'd been friends—or at least she thought they'd been friends—before the whole Draco incident last year.  She hoped Ginny hadn't let her crush on Harry develop into something more…dangerous.

Though it seemed a bit too late now, didn't it?

Draco pressed a kiss to her cheek, his breath warm on her skin, as he squeezed her hand.  "Cheer up, love.  With all of us to watch out for her, she'll be fine.  We'll be fine."  He grinned at her.  "And in a few hours, we'll get to see what our private rooms look like."  His eyebrows waggled suggestively.

"Draco!" chorused Ron, Harry, Su, and Hermione, the former three in disgust and the latter in throes of laughter.

The compartment door slid open as Hermione's giggles faded.  Pansy Parkinson stood in the doorway with a glower on her face.  "Are you _still_ with Granger?" she griped, her fists clenching.  "But you were engaged to _meee_, Dracooo."  Her complaint ended on a wail.  The Malfoy in question proceeded to wince and mutter a spell causing the door to fly shut with a slight _whump_.

"I need to learn that," Harry said with a pointed look at Ron, "to keep _some_ people out when I'm trying to study with Su!"

Ron snorted.  "_Study?!_"

Su clamped a hand over her mouth to suppress her chortles.  Hermione laughed openly and leaned her head onto Draco's.  Seventh year, she mused, was going to be the best ever.

--

A/N: And that wraps it up!!  Thank you so much everybody. ^^ Sorry for the long delay…I was, er, once again sidetracked.  This time by Fushigi Yuugi, which is the BEST anime in the world if anyone's asking.  ^_~.  Anyhow, please review, and if there are a lot of questions, I'll try to address them…um, somehow.

I know I left the whole Ginny issue hanging.  A perfect set-up for a sequel!  *sweatdrop* Though I'm not sure I'm ready to go there quite yet.  Eventually, perhaps.  In the meantime, schnoogles from your favorite HP characters if you review!!


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